June's dilema, Neal's big problem!
by MiniMiner
Summary: Neal only wanted to help out June, a simple task, surely?  But Neal being Neal,it ended up with him needing all the help he could find!
1. Chapter 1

I wrote this for no other reason other than I wanted to. These characters are so much fun to work with, that I thought I'd have a go after years of non- writing. I hope you enjoy it.

**Disclaimer**. You will understand which characters I have borrowed from Mr. Eastin and which ones are my own. I make no profit from this, it is just an opportunity to escape reality for a little while, and I have returned them unharmed. Any similarities between people living or dead is purely coincidental. Thank you x

Chapter one

The view across the Manhattan skyline was breath taking and the solitary figure sat quietly on the rooftop patio savouring the view. His profile was silhouetted against the city horizon as he gently allowed his gaze to sweep the panorama. This was his favourite time of the day, the hours just after midnight and an imperceptible smile crept along his lips as his subconscious replayed a series of fond memories from his past. Yes, he agreed. Apart from the four enforced years he'd spent in high security accommodation, this was definitely his favourite time of the day. The young man pensively finished the remainder of the red wine in his glass and allowed himself to drift slowly back to the present day. Glancing at the Omega watch on his wrist, he noted that the hour was late and decided it was time he retired to bed. He stood up in one fluid movement and nonchalantly picked up his Sy Devore jacket which had been draped gracefully over the back of a chair. As if loathe to leave the freedom of the night, he cast his piercing eyes one last time over the vibrant city vista, before accepting it was finally time to go indoors. Moving with a confident, self-made authority he could easily be mistaken for a stockbroker, financier or even a film star but Neal Caffrey's life choices had placed him in a totally different category. He was arguably one of the best in his profession, many would say an expert in his craft but his particular field of expertise lay on the wrong side of the tracks. Neal Caffrey was a highly successful thief, con man and forger, who until recently had been residing in a maximum security prison for bond forgery. His story, like everything else in his life was complicated. A few months ago he had orchestrated his release from prison into the custody of Special Agent Peter Burke of the FBI and since that time he had enjoyed every precious moment of his newly acquired freedom, even if there were strings - or in his case a tracking anklet - attached.

He looked down at the small, grey box hugging his left ankle; its green light blinking silently in the dark and he had to smile again. It was a natural smile that lit up his striking, youthful features in an easy and relaxed manner. He had actually proposed this mini minder himself, when Peter had caught him for the second time. He had to admit that the man was good! Being arrested once could be considered unfortunate, but being arrested twice was careless. Neal had never, and would never, consider himself reckless and it still hurt his ego to think that he had actually been caught – twice - by the same Agent. Mozzie his friend, partner in crime and fence had warned him at the time that he had to be careful; the Feds were getting close, but Neal had never encountered the like of one Special Agent Peter Burke before and so heeded the warnings with a youthful disdain. It was certainly no surprise to Mozzie at least, when shortly afterwards Neal had been arrested by said Agent Burke and convicted of bond forgery.

Neal let this perturbing memory slide as he continued back towards the house. He crossed the patio and entered his expensively appointed room. How he had landed on his feet with this place, he mused.

He had been fortunate to meet his landlady, June, upon his first day on the outside. June had been in the thrift shop donating her late husband's suits and it was a lucky day for Neal when their paths had crossed. With his film star good looks, easy going manner and obvious style, he had used his con man charm to coax the widow into letting him have the expensive suits and had even managed to persuade her to rent him the guest room in her beautiful Manhattan home. How did Caffrey, a convicted felon, do it? Peter Burke had later wanted to know. How come he had never found bargains like June in a thrift shop? Neal had simply shrugged and smiled in his ingratiating manner by way of explanation. A few months had passed since that day and this was now Neal Caffrey's new life, but although he was living in luxury, in many ways he was still in prison.

Once inside his room he removed his Pink of London shirt, Italian silk tie and equally expensive underwear and put on his night attire. It was then that a noise downstairs caught his attention. His senses were sharp; they had been fine-tuned over the years due to the nature of his work and so he recognised when a sound was out of place, not quite right. Turning his light off, he soundlessly moved out onto the upper landing keeping his body tight against the wall. He then moved over to the bannister and peered down into the hall; the light was on in the parlour, very strange at 2 am. Curiosity, always a problem were Neal was concerned, got the better of him and he started to move down the stairs. It was then a thought struck him, that whoever was downstairs may not be of a friendly disposition and since he was dressed only in his night clothes that would put him at a distinct disadvantage. The thought of being attacked by some intruder and possibly having to travel to hospital in his pyjamas, (albeit Calvin Klein's) was disconcerting. He decided therefore, to quickly put on some other clothes and grab something to use as a weapon. Neal didn't like guns and so the only item he could find that was easy to carry, was an umbrella. Not very James Bond but it would just have to do. The light was still on downstairs when he reappeared a few minutes later and so once again he crept out onto the landing. He effortlessly navigated the stairs like an athlete, making no noise whatsoever until he arrived on the ground floor. Keeping his movements to a minimum, he gracefully crossed over the marble surface of the hall and secreted himself in a doorway. He blended seamlessly into the shadows and listened.

He was certain he could hear two voices. One of them he surmised belonged to June and that surprised Neal because she was not usually awake at this hour. He could not actually hear what was being said, but he could get an impression from the timbre and inflections in the conversation that it was not a friendly exchange. The second voice cut in and it was obvious that it was a man. He sounded angry, constantly having to check the volume of his voice as the occasional word escaped and drifted out into the quiet of the hall.

"Byron owes me!" Those words were clear enough and menacing. It took all of Neal's self-control to remain in his hiding place and not charge in waving the umbrella.

June's quiet voice was heard next. Her words were indistinct and it was obvious that she was trying to remain calm but her voice quavered occasionally. Neal was torn whether or not to intervene but the decision was made for him in the next few seconds when the man stormed out of the parlour and into the hall. Neal held his breath and tried to press himself further into the doorway even though there was no more room. He couldn't see the man's face but from his back he appeared to be about 70 years of age with a good physique. He held a hat and wore an expensive overcoat; Dolce and Gabbana Neal guessed judging by the styling and he looked as though he had money. June followed him to the front door looking subdued.

"One week, June." The male visitor was saying. "You've had it for long enough now, so I am giving you one more week to get it back to me and then we are quits. Should you decide to renege on our deal, I know where your granddaughter goes to university. Pretty girl, she should be careful who she talks to in future, New York can be a very violent city."

June was obviously shocked at the man's words but held it together like the pro she was.

"I have explained the situation to you. I cannot promise anything, but you have my word I will try my best to get it."

The man gave a derisory laugh. "Good acting, June, I commend you, but for your granddaughter's sake I hope your best is good enough. I look forward to hearing from you."

He put on his hat and grabbing the door handle, flung open the front door before disappearing into the New York night.

Neal remained perfectly still. This was not the time to confront June about what had just transpired, so he watched, albeit painfully as his landlady locked the front door, turned off the parlour lights and went slowly up the stairs to bed, her eyes wet with tears.

It took June a few minutes to get up to her room and it was only when Neal heard her door close that he finally stepped out of the doorway into the peace and quiet of the majestic hall. He let out a breath, not realising he had still been holding it, and replayed in his mind what he had just witnessed. Gently running his fingers through his dark hair, he sighed again, his eyes not focussing on anything in particular. Lost in thought, the young con man stayed in the hall for a few minutes before finally shaking himself free of the trance. Absently using the umbrella as a walking stick he quietly ascended to his room where he lay down purposefully on his bed, knowing he wouldn't be getting much sleep that night.


	2. Chapter 2

I decided to add a couple of chapters, since they are both completed! Enjoy X

"How I hate Monday mornings!' Special Agent Peter Burke announced miserably to Satchmo. The big dog just looked up at him expectantly and wagged his tail, translating every word his master uttered into an offer of food. Peter's wife, Elizabeth came out of the kitchen carrying a mug of strong coffee.

"You'd better drink this, Honey, otherwise you'll bite everyone's head off and I think they'll be of more use to you today if they have their heads attached, don't you?"

Peter grunted his thanks and acknowledged his wife's sarcasm with a grimace.

"It just never ceases to amaze me that in this hi tech day and age we still get power cuts! I ask you, how are we supposed to operate an organisation like the FBI with limited power?" He looked at his wife for support but she was busying herself getting ready for work. He sighed theatrically to attract sympathy but neither Elizabeth nor Satchmo were listening, having lost interest a while ago.

He focussed his attention back on his coffee and drank deeply. Once the life refreshing liquid had entered his system, he started up again on his diatribe.

"It also means I have to get into the office at silly o'clock to sort out a mess that is not of my making!"

Elizabeth stopped in her deliberations and just looked at him in her own inimitable way; the look that said 'it will all be fine, stop worrying.'

Peter rose from the table, drained his cup and held up his hands in defeat.

"Okay, okay, I'm going. Have a good day, Hon."

Elizabeth came over and kissed him warmly.

"You'll have a good day, I'm sure. Say hi to Neal for me." She added.

Peter's mood darkened again at the mention of that name. Neal Caffrey. The con man, thief and forger who had been an irritating thorn in his side for three long years; Neal Caffrey, the man who had incredibly escaped from a Federal maximum security establishment with only 4 months to go on his sentence, requiring Burke's time and effort to catch him again. Neal Caffrey, the con man who now worked alongside him as a consultant for the FBI.

"Caffrey. He's probably sitting on June's patio as we speak, enjoying his ten million dollar view and sipping an Italian roast! He doesn't have to worry about power cuts! He'd better not be late this morning or else I'll…"

Elizabeth gave him a hard stare and so Peter took this as his cue to exit.

The advantage of getting to work early meant you missed the rush hour traffic; at least that was the theory. Unfortunately due to the power cut, some of the traffic signals where either not working or out of synchronisation and so by the time Peter arrived at the office he was really not in the best of moods. To make matters worse, both coffee machines had blown a fuse and if things didn't improve quickly, Peter would soon follow suit.

Neal meanwhile had problems of his own. After a sleepless night, he was seated at the table trying to look relaxed and nonchalant whilst waiting for June to appear. In that time he'd read the paper twice but still couldn't say what the headline was, or indeed what any of the news items were in the paper that day. It was unlike her to be late to breakfast and it was delaying him going to work but he felt he must speak with her before he left. She finally appeared a few minutes later, looking distinctly jaded. Neal gave her his head on, gets them every time smile.

"Good morning, June." _Try not to overdo it,_ Neal told himself; _she'll think you've been drinking_. "Would you like some coffee?"

June was obviously lost in her thoughts, but reacted to Neal's friendly greeting none the less.

"Eh? Oh, no thank you dear, I'm fine." She replied and started to go back into the house.

_Keep her engaged in conversation before she gets away!_ Neal's inner voice was shouting.

"Did you sleep well?" He enquired loudly. _That was lame, but at least it's caught her attention,_ he thought.

June stopped and turned round and close up Neal could see how drawn she looked.

"I've had better nights but there's no need to worry about me, I'll be fine once the day gets going."

Neal looked at June with an intensity that surprised her; He held her eyes locked with his.

"You are a very bad liar." He told her gently.

June was surprised but kept her composure.

"Whatever do you mean?"

Neal continued to hold her gaze and replied, "I have built a highly successful career around my ability to lie convincingly; I happen to excel at the art but quite frankly, June, you need more practice." He smiled again; a generous, open, warm smile that only succeeded in reducing June to tears.

Neal immediately put his arm around her shoulders. "Hey, it's okay; I'm sorry if I upset you. Here, come and sit down and I'll get you some coffee."

June allowed herself to be guided to the chair and sank down as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. Neal poured a cup of coffee and put it in her hands.

"Here, drink this; it will make you feel better."

He then sat down next to her whilst she took a couple of sips, her body shaking as the sobs escaped.

Neal allowed the crying to subside before speaking.

"Do you want to tell me about it, perhaps I can help?" He coaxed in a voice of velvet. Not many people could refuse Neal Caffrey once he turned on his undoubted charm.

June wiped away her tears with a lace handkerchief and focussed her tired eyes upon him.

"It's a long story, the outcome of which only I can sort out. I appreciate your offer Neal, but you of all people would not be in a position to help unless you wanted to be sent back to prison; I couldn't let that happen."

Neal was intrigued. What on earth was June mixed up in?

"I don't like to see you like this, please tell me what has happened, a problem shared and all that?"

His bold blue eyes held a truth in them. No one could resist those eyes.

June actually smiled at that point.

"Besides lying, you have excellent powers of persuasion, too!" She observed.

Neal smiled his conspiratorial smile.

"Very well," June continued, "I will tell you some of the story, but I want you to promise me you won't interfere, is that understood?" She fixed him with a stern, school teacher stare.

Neal sat theatrically to attention. "Yes, ma'am."

She wiped her eyes one more time and began. "What I am about to tell you started back in Chicago in the late 60's. Byron and I lived there for a while and he had a lot of friends with whom he used to do business."

Neal nodded his understanding at the use of the word 'friends', Mobsters more like.

"Byron was a good poker player, in fact he was an excellent poker player and one evening he took a gun as payment for a debt owed. So what? I hear you ask, but this wasn't any old gun. This was a 1939 silver plated .38 colt special and Byron had won it from Ralph Capone, Al's older brother."

Neal's piercing eyes widened in surprise.

"You mean to say, it was the colt that used to belong to Al Capone?"

June smiled proudly. "The very same. When he was paroled from Alcatraz for tax evasion in 1939 he bought the gun. Upon his death a few years later it was left to his brother, Ralph in his will. Now it belonged legally to Byron."

Neal was captivated. "Go on."

June was relaxing which pleased Neal and she continued with more enthusiasm.

"We kept the gun until 1996 when unfortunately the very same thing that had happened to Ralph Capone happened to Byron. He rather stupidly bet the gun in a big game and lost it to a man named Lorenzo Lombardo. Unfortunately, that evening the club was raided and in the ensuing confusion the gun disappeared. Byron knew who'd taken it, but Lorenzo wouldn't hear of it and threatened to kill Byron if he didn't return it. We moved back to New York soon afterwards and I had forgotten all about the gun until last night, when Lorenzo turned up here and threatened to harm my granddaughter if I didn't give the gun back to him."

June's composure was beginning to falter. Neal held her hand and asked gently,

"Who took the gun, June? Can you tell me?"

Keeping the crying under control, she raised her head and said "It was a man named Johnny Carter. He was a close friend of Lombardo's so that's why he didn't believe Byron's accusations. Byron saw Carter snatch it but he couldn't convince Lombardo that his best friend was a thief and a liar."

Neal's brow furrowed as he digested the information as June continued.

"Lombardo still thinks I have the gun, or at least know of its whereabouts and if I don't get it back to him within the week, he'll harm Cindy! Somehow I have to find it and get it back."

Neal continued holding her hand and said "Don't worry June, the simple answer is to find the gun and get it back, the difficult part is actually achieving it!"

June took her hand away sharply.

"You promised me you wouldn't get involved! I appreciate your verbal input but you mustn't break the terms of your parole, you would be sent straight back to prison!"

Neal understood that all too well but he couldn't leave June to sort out this mess by herself.

"I don't relish the prospect of going back either so you can rest assured I will play safe, but just let me ask around, okay?"

June nodded, and then tried to act as if nothing had happened and everything was alright with the world.

"Very well, as long as you just ask around, but now I really think you should get off to work and keep yourself out of trouble. Agent Burke won't like your being late!"

Neal suddenly felt a tightening in his stomach. It irritated him that Peter Burke had that effect on him but now he had to explain to the FBI Agent why he was nearly an hour late.

He rose from the table, grabbed his hat and buttoned up his classically tailored suit.

"I'll see you tonight, June!" he called as he left the patio. "If Peter hasn't had me returned me to prison, that is!" He added with only a hint of sarcasm.

.


	3. Chapter 3

Agent Jones closed the office door gently and winced as he did so. Agent Lauren Cruz looked up from her desk and gave him a knowing smile.

"Boss not happy, eh?"

Jones had just come out from a meeting with Burke and had got the sharp end of his tongue.

"Man, something's eating him today and I tell you, I wouldn't want to be in Caffrey's shoes for one moment! By the way, is he in yet?"

Lauren shook her head, a huge smile spreading across her face.

"Not as yet, one hour late and the clock is still ticking. I hope I'm around when he shows up though!" Her attention was distracted for a moment and then she said "Well, well, speak of the devil, look who's finally decided to put in an appearance!"

Jones followed her gaze and saw Neal just outside the glass doors peering in. Sighing heavily, he

ran quickly down the stairs and went straight over to the doors, pulling one of them sharply open.

Neal tried not to look startled by the Agent's sudden appearance.

"Hi, Jones, is Peter in?" He asked quietly trying to keep out of sight, his eyes scanning furtively around.

"Why yes! Funny thing is, in this office we tend to have a rather silly ritual whereby we all get in at the same time in the morning. Agent Burke is most definitely in and I think he would like to speak with you, if you are not too busy, that is?"

Neal was about to reply to Jones's sarcasm when Peter's strident voice cut in.

"Caffrey! My office, NOW!"

Jones gave Neal a less than sympathetic look and Cruz couldn't hide her smug smile of delight; the great Neal Caffrey was going to be taken down a peg or two.

Peter had seen Neal arrive and had come out onto the upper walkway. He watched as the con man walked through the office and couldn't help being annoyed that Neal still looked like he'd just stepped off the pages of Vogue and onto the runway at New York Fashion Week. He turned away shaking his head as Neal approached, and entering his glass fronted office sat down heavily in his chair.

Neal appeared awkwardly at the door a few moments later and knocked lightly.

"Get in here and close the door!" Peter said authoritatively.

Neal for once did as he was told and stood self-consciously in front of the desk, playing with his fedora and not daring to sit down at this stage.

"Morning Peter…" He said tentatively; his smile not working on the FBI Agent.

Peter fixed him with a hard stare.

"You're an hour late, where the hell have you been? I nearly sent Jones out after you!"

Neal opened his mouth to speak but promptly closed it again as Peter cut across him.

"Do you realise what type of morning I've had so far? Do you even care?"

Neal tried to answer once again but gave up when Peter continued his rant, preferring instead to concentrate on his hat with his eyes averted.

"The power went off at 5am and most of the systems went down. I have been here since 6am and it has taken a mammoth effort from all of the staff to get the office up and running on 50% power. It would have been helpful if ALL members of staff had made it in on time, especially those who don't need to use public transport or take the subway!"

Neal looked well and truly chastened at Peter's outburst so the Agent added "Sit down for heaven's sake; you're making the place look untidy!"

Neal gratefully got a chair and sat down, putting his hat on the desk. He then spoke very quickly with a childlike enthusiasm, making sure he got a word in edgeways.

"I'm sorry, Peter, it won't happen again. It's just that June was really upset this morning and I couldn't leave until I'd spoken to her to find out what was going on. I didn't realise I was running so late and I would have called you but I know how you hate being disturbed at the office and I had hoped I would have been here before now, but you know how time flies when you least want it to."

Burke just looked at him in his irritating, calculating way.

"I did run all the way." Neal added his eyes all wide and innocent.

Burke remained quiet for a moment longer, letting Caffrey stew for a while. It was a few seconds before Burke finally spoke. "That excuse is so lame it has to be the truth." He smiled slightly, adding, "Then again, you, running? Never!"

Neal relaxed.

"It's the truth alright, Peter. I could have come up with a much better story than that, believe me!"

Peter raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"But I would never lie to the FBI, obviously!" Neal added for good measure.

Peter had enjoyed torturing his consultant for the time being, so he brought the conversation back to work matters.

"Okay, enough. What do you know about one Samson Mallory?" He said it nonchalantly but observed Neal's reaction.

Neal remained perfectly calm and showed no signs of recognising the name.

"I've never heard the name before. Who or what is he?"

Peter nodded. "Samson Mallory, you're sure you've never heard of him?"

Neal shook his head and looked Peter straight in the eyes.

"No, should I have done?"

Peter looked straight back at Neal. The con man was utterly convincing, just as he'd expected but he'd had enough of this charade.

"Cut the crap, Neal. You know him alright! Let me refresh your selective memory. 2004, the extremely rare, extremely valuable second world war Gruhberg papers disappeared from a private collection in The Hamptons. FBI analysis of the scene suggested two perpetrators, highly organised. Case notes at the time considered it to be the work of one Samson Mallory plus accomplice described as, let me see, oh yes, I quote: 'Young, dark haired, smartly dressed with a silver tongue;' I wonder who that could have been? Care to hazard a guess?"

Neal moved awkwardly in his chair but remained poker faced.

"I know you were involved along with Mallory, so don't try your innocent act with me, I am not in the mood especially since I haven't had any damn coffee since 6am!"

Neal still remained silent, not meeting Peter's eyes.

Peter changed tack, time to bring in the good cop.

"Look, Neal. I don't expect you to come straight out and admit to anything. Well, not at this particular moment anyhow, just tell me you know Mallory!"

Neal looked up at this; he was beginning to realise just how much Peter had on him and he had to admit that on this occasion, he was cornered.

After a few silent seconds which seemed to last for minutes, Neal replied.

"Since you put it like that, I may have heard of him …" He said it begrudgingly, his mind racing to ensure he didn't say anything incriminating.

Peter carried on in a loud, condescending voice.

"Good. Now we are getting somewhere. According to our Intel, Mallory fled the US in 2005 back to his native England. At this time you were residing with your orange clad buddies so probably weren't aware that he'd left the country."

Neal sighed resignedly at another reference to the 4 years he'd spent in prison. Peter enjoyed reminding him that he'd screwed up. He gave Peter his best 'you are so full of it!' look and let him continue.

"A week ago he returned to New York, coming in overland and bringing very little with him in the way of luggage. I want to know why he's here and what he's up to."

Neal didn't say anything at first, he just kept his head down but when he looked up, judging by Peter's facial expression he was expected to say something.

"Why are you telling me all this, what do you expect me to do?" He said at last.

Peter smiled and threw a file down onto the table in front of him.

"You're the expert, Moriarty. I want you to track Mallory down, befriend him again and find out what he wants in our fair city. I have a suspicion he will be leaving with a few souvenirs and I don't mean cheap miniature statues of the Empire State Building!"

Neal hesitated before picking up the file. It was purely for Peter's benefit that he made a show of looking through it. Yes, he knew Mallory, in fact he knew him very well. He was by a long shot the best cat burglar he'd ever come across. They had worked together a few times and were a good team, having been responsible for at least three unsolved, seriously expensive heists. Neal's eyebrows furrowed as he realised just what Peter was expecting from him.

"You want me to inform on him, is that what you're saying?" Neal gave Peter an intense stare.

Peter waved his concerns aside.

"I know there is a 'code', honour amongst thieves and all that, but we live in the 21st century and I want to know where he is so we can catch him before he escapes again."

Neal threw the file down on the table, trying to keep a lid on his disapproval.

"He hasn't done anything that you can prove, let alone anything in the last week. You can't expect me to do this, its entrapment!"

Peter sat back down and thought before he spoke. He knew what he was going to say next was below the belt, but Neal was the only one who could do this and he needed reminding of a few facts.

"Don't forget, Neal, the only reason you're sitting there and not in a 6 x 8 cell is because of the deal we made. You help me, remember?"

Neal stood up and grabbed his hat, his face set like stone.

"Yeah, I remember, you remind me often enough, but I don't have to like it!" He then started to leave.

"Where do you think you're going?" Peter demanded, like an overbearing parent to a petulant teenager.

"You're the FBI, go figure!" Neal shouted over his shoulder as he left the office and headed into the street.


	4. Chapter 4

Firstly, I would like to thank everyone who has taken the trouble to review my story. I didn't expect them, so thanks for your comments, I welcome them all.

The walk through the bustling city streets had helped Neal to calm down. He came to a quieter area of the city where he was still within his 2 mile radius and dialled Mozzie. The phone rang four times before he picked up.

"_Speak_."

"Hey, Moz, it's me. I need your help."

"_What's up?"_

"Mallory's back in New York."

Silence, then.

"_Samson Mallory, back here?"_

"Yes, and I need you to help me find him and quickly, before the FBI."

"_Oh-kay, does the suit know about this?"_

"Just do it, Moz, please. Let him know I need to meet and give me the details."

There was a slight pause and Neal could picture his friend on the other end of the phone thinking 'here we go again.' It was a little longer than Neal had expected before Mozzie eventually replied.

"_I'll see what I can do; I just hope you know what you're doing!"_

Neal smiled. "Don't I always?"

Mozzie laughed sarcastically by way of reply_. "No! That's what I'm afraid of!"_

"Oh and Moz?" Neal added quickly before his friend had chance to hang up.

"_What?"_

"See what you can dig up on a Johnny Carter and Lorenzo Lombardo, both approximately 70 years of age, probably originally from Chicago."

"_Anything else, oh Master?"_

"Yes, thanks for asking. Find out all you can about Al Capone's 1939 gun."

Again a brief pause.

"_Did you just say what I thought you just said? Because if you __**did**__ just say what I thought you just said, I probably didn't hear correctly what I thought you just said."_

Neal had to smile.

"You heard right, Mozzie. Find out all you can on Al Capone's silver plated .38 Colt special."

"_I suppose this will all make perfect sense in the morning?"_

"Thanks, Moz."

Neal ended the call and checked his watch; it was only 11.00am, so that gave Mozzie a good part of the day to find Mallory. Neal had to speak to the Englishman before the FBI got hold of him and he knew that whenever Peter was involved, it wouldn't be long before the Bureau traced Mallory and scuppered Neal's newly burgeoning plans for good. He then decided he should return to the office, but he would go bearing gifts.

Back in the office Peter was badgering the engineer to fix the coffee machine. The power had been reconnected and he was hovering over the harassed man, watching his every move. Thankfully for the engineer, Hughes called Peter into his office and the man breathed a sigh of relief as the FBI Agent left and allowed him to carry on with his task uninterrupted.

Hughes usually had only two facial expressions, angry and miserable. Today it was miserable, which was good Peter thought, because it meant he hadn't screwed anything up - yet.

Peter's boss indicated a chair and said "Sit down Peter. I need to discuss the Mallory case with you."

Peter sat opposite Hughes and waited for his superior to open proceedings.

"This is a delicate case, Peter." Hughes began. "We know for a fact that Mallory is in New York but unfortunately our Intel boys appear to have - lost him."

Peter smiled to himself. He couldn't help but draw comparisons with Neal's case. Caffrey had been the cleverest opponent of his career by far, constantly evading capture and possessing an intelligence that Peter greatly admired. He could see though, that Hughes was tired of cat and mouse games with criminals and so said: "He's good, one of the best. You don't catch a criminal like Mallory using the usual methods."

Hughes nodded silently at Peter's experienced words before carrying on.

"Well, we need to catch him before he does anything and knowing Mallory it will be something big."

Peter agreed with his boss on this one, Mallory was trouble.

"You are off your other cases for the foreseeable future because I need you to concentrate all your energies on this one. I have sent for Agent Dhumo to assist you, he was with you on the Caffrey case, right?"

Peter nodded. Agent Dhumo was a tenacious bully, but he had been on the team that had helped Peter finally put Caffrey behind bars.

"He's a good man, he'll be an asset." Peter said that for Hughes's benefit, he didn't really like Dhumo but he had to admit the Agent achieved results.

"Good. He'll be here anytime soon and I want quick results on this one, Peter. Mallory is not going to make a laughing stock out of us like Caffrey did, understood?"

Peter rose from his seat to leave.

"Understood. Don't worry, we'll get him."

Hughes then looked around and said "Where **is** Caffrey by the way?" He didn't miss a trick.

Peter was stumped by that one for a moment, when thankfully he caught sight of the con man breezing in through the downstairs doors, carrying two large take away coffees.

"I sent him out to get coffee." Peter hoped it sounded genuine. If Hughes noticed, he didn't comment.

Peter left Hughes's office and hurried down the steps to meet Neal.

Neal handed Peter a coffee with a broad grin.

"I know how cranky you get without your fix of caffeine!" He smiled, in that ingratiating way that irritated the hell out of Burke.

Peter gratefully took the cup and drank like it would be his last; he also knew he had to clear the air.

"Look, Neal, I'm sorry I played the prison card, but I really need your help on this one."

Neal felt slightly bad about deceiving Peter, but kept up his act as he replied.

"You're just telling it like it is, I understand."

"Glad you're back on board!" Burke was relieved because this would be a difficult case.

The lift announced its arrival with its robotic 'ping' and the metal doors slid open to reveal a large man who possessed no redeeming features. He swept through the doors and came up to Peter like a large grizzly.

"Agent Burke, I'm honoured to be working with you again." He boomed in a voice like thunder..

Neal recognised the man mountain instantly and nearly choked on his latte, as Peter shook the large man's paw like hand.

"Welcome back, it's been a while." Peter replied politely. He then indicated Neal who was standing a little off to the right.

"I don't suppose introductions are necessary?" He said to the new arrival.

The Agent made a big show of looking Neal up and down dismissively.

"Well, well! Neal Caffrey, what an unpleasant surprise! So it's true what they've been saying about Agent Burke having a pet convict! I thought we'd put you away behind bars where you rightfully belong!" Dhumo said with a sneer.

Peter didn't like where this was heading and so moved the conversation along.

"Neal, I'm sure you remember Agent…"

Neal cut in, but still retained a smile.

"Dummo, yes I remember him, once seen never forgotten."

The Agent scowled. "It's pronounced Doo –mo."

"Sure it is…" Neal gave his best condescending look and took a swig of coffee.

Again Peter interjected.

"Neal will be helping us on this case, Agent Dhumo."

The Agent looked like he'd been punched in his very large stomach.

"You've got him working cases? He's a convicted felon! He should be breaking big rocks into smaller ones if you ask me!"

Neal didn't bat an eyelid and shot back in measured tones.

"My rock breaking skills weren't up to scratch apparently, so they put me with the FBI."

Peter couldn't help smiling despite himself.

Agent Dhumo went an interesting shade of purple.

"Why you scum …"

The Agent made a move towards Neal who smiled annoyingly and stepped away as they brushed together for a split second. Peter had to step in again.

"Enough! We have to work together on this one, Dhumo. I suggest you go get settled and we'll meet for a briefing in half an hour."

The Agent nodded and backed off, albeit begrudgingly.

"Very well, Agent Burke." He gave Neal a threatening look and hissed. "Just watch yourself, Caffrey. I put you away once and I can do it again." Then he left.

Neal watched the Agent leave and muttered, "That went well…"

Peter focussed his attention on Neal and sighed heavily, keeping his voice low but his irritation was obvious.

"What are you playing at? I have enough trouble convincing people in the Agency that your being here will work, and you go and antagonise people!"

Neal was getting seriously pissed off about all this and stage whispered back.

"He was on the team that arrested me, Peter. I don't know if you picked up on it just then, but _he doesn't like me!"_

Peter went to have another drink of coffee but found that his cup was empty. He squashed it in frustration and waved it under Neal's nose as he addressed him.

"Okay, so you don't have to like each other, just stop trading insults for the duration of this case, do I make myself clear?"

Neal nodded his agreement but inside he knew it wouldn't last.

Peter went to walk away when Neal stopped him.

"Oh! By the way, could you give this back to Agent Dum...I mean Doo-mo? He appears to have dropped it."

When Peter turned round he saw Neal holding up a wallet.

Peter snatched it from him and rolled his eyes in dismay, "For heaven's sake, Neal, don't start with your party tricks!" He glared at the con man before storming off, throwing the crumpled cup into a bin and bemoaning the fact that he needed more goddam coffee.

Neal stood with his hands in his pockets and watched Peter's retreating back. This was going to be tougher than he thought...


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks again folks for reviews. Time to carry the story along…

Neal wandered into the briefing room a short time later and sat down next to Jones. As he waited for something to happen, he observed the other people in the room. It was a habit he had acquired a long time ago, born out of necessity in his profession and so he watched surreptitiously as Agent Cruz busied herself distributing files and photographs; Jones was paying close attention to his iPhone; Hughes sat quietly in the corner going through his file, his face showing no emotion and there were a couple of other Agents in the room too, Adams and Howells who Neal knew and got along with. Peter was also there, talking animatedly to the very large bulk otherwise known as Agent Dhumo. The occasional laugh interjected the conversation and Neal felt a bit aggrieved at this happy little exchange. Those two men were responsible for putting him in prison; what was this? The 'We caught Neal Caffrey Fan Club' annual get together?

Neal looked away in annoyance and picked up the glossy 10 x 8 photo which Lauren had placed on the desk in front of him.

There he was, Samson Mallory. The photo had been taken a few years ago, but that was how Neal remembered him. He was taken out of his reverie by Peter's voice cutting through the low murmurs in the office.

"Listen up boys and girl!"

Lauren smiled at Burke's introduction. Quite endearing, Neal noted.

I believe we all know each other and on this case we welcome Agent Dhumo from the Baltimore office." Nods all round. "Very well let's begin!"

Peter was about to start when Dhumo spoke up.

"Special Agent Hughes, Sir."

Hughes looked up from his notes and scowled.

"What is it, Dhumo?"

"I would just like it put on record that I am unhappy with having a convicted felon sitting in on these proceedings!"

Everyone unconsciously turned to stare at Neal who merely absorbed the looks; he was used to getting this reaction and right now, he really couldn't have cared less.

Hughes wasn't in the mood for interruptions.

"Caffrey is now a consultant with the FBI under Peter's control. He is working on this case at my instigation. Do you have a problem with that, Agent Dhumo? Because if you do, you can leave right now."

Cruz and Jones looked away with smiles playing on their lips. Go Hughes!

Dhumo wasn't fazed.

"No Sir, I just wanted my objection noted."

Hughes regarded the Agent with irritation. "Noted. Peter, carry on!"

Peter put a 10 x 8 photo on the board and everyone in the room obediently picked up their copies.

"This is Samson Evan Mallory, born first of May 1962 in Stratford upon Avon, England. Parents were wealthy and young Samson was groomed to go into the family art and antique business. He studied Fine Arts and Classics at Cambridge University and then returned to help run said business. Over the next few years there were a series of up market thefts, mainly in London and no one was ever caught. The strange thing was these thefts coincided with young Sam's holidays. "

"What sorts of things were stolen?" Jones voice asked, on the ball as always.

"The targets were galleries, museums and on the odd occasion, private collections but all items stolen were small, expensive and very rare. Everything taken was easily transportable in a rucksack or bag." Peter then picked up another sheet of paper and continued reading.

"Mallory went to work for a couple of years in Europe as a climbing instructor and surprise, surprise, there were a series of robberies all over Europe, especially in those areas with mountains."

There was a polite sound of gentle laughter. Burke continued.

"Interpol became involved and they were able to gather enough circumstantial evidence to suggest it was Mallory."

Cruz asked "Why is he so special? I mean, there are thieves at work every day and we don't get involved."

Peter explained.

"Mallory is good, very good. His MO is scaling walls and entering premises that would seem impenetrable; he can deactivate the most complicated alarm systems and then disappear without a trace; couple that with a top notch accomplice," Peter gave Neal the most fleeting of glances, "and you have trouble with a capitol 'T'. Mallory was last in the US causing problems back in 2004, when there was a heist in the Hamptons."

Jones piped up "The Gruhberg papers, yeah, I remember that one; still can't work out how that was done! Man it was clever!"

Neal would have enjoyed the accolade on another occasion but he kept his head down, suddenly finding the atmosphere in the room very suffocating.

Burke had to begrudgingly agree.

"Clever or not, we need to get this guy and according to our sources he is back in New York at this very moment. I shouldn't need to tell you the urgency of this case. Mallory is here for one thing and one thing only, to steal something valuable and make us look very stupid and inept. He is a pro, an expert, one of the very best and unless we catch him he will escape back to England."

Dhumo's dulcet tones piped up. "Sounds like one of your acquaintances, Caffrey!" His voice was dripping with innuendo.

Neal didn't rise to the bait; he merely ignored the comment with a dignified silence.

Peter took control once more.

"We do have some DNA evidence from one of the US crime scenes that can be used to link him to others." He held up a cigarette butt that was in an evidence bag. "This was seen to be dropped by one of the thieves who we now suspect was Mallory. If we can get a sample of his DNA to compare with this one, we have him."

Murmurs of agreement and nodding of heads filled the room. Neal couldn't believe Mallory had been so stupid. Peter's voice one again interrupted Neal's thoughts.

"Listen up people, we need a result on this one so get out there and nail this guy! Check flight manifests, hotels, CCTV, car rentals, damn it check the Whitehouse if you have to! He can't have just disappeared! I want results and I want them fast!" He scanned the room looking at everyone, ensuring they were left in no doubt as to the importance of the case. After a few seconds of psychological silence he said,

"Well? What are you all waiting for?"

The Agents muttered their understanding and picking up their files, slowly filed out of the room. Neal had remained seated and Hughes looked at Peter as something fleeting passed between them, before the older man left.

Peter came over to where Neal sat, swishing the swivel chair from side to side, as he had an irritating habit of doing.

"You ready for this?" He asked directly.

Neal stopped his swishing and shrugged his shoulders. "As I said before, I don't really know what I can do on this one; you seem to have it covered. All I can see is an FBI Agent who would prefer to be arresting me."

Burke put his papers on the table and replaced the top on his pen.

"Dhumo's not stupid, Neal. He knows what's in your file and he has his suspicions like a lot of people around here. Don't let him get to you, just don't give him any just cause…"

Neal interrupted and his voice had a hard edge to it.

"Thanks for the advice. I can see you two are getting along just fine, so I know who to watch out for…"

Peter sighed. Caffrey could be such a child.

"I need to catch this man, Neal, and I will do it with or without your help. I would prefer it if it was with your assistance, but if I get the impression you are impeding this investigation, I will have no problem in sending you back to maximum security."

Neal put his finger tips together and leant back in the chair, fixing Peter with an accusing stare.

"I get the impression that is not an idle threat."

Peter returned the stare ten fold.

"You know the score, Neal. I'm not telling you something you don't already know."

Neal gave Peter a discerning look before standing up.

"Since my options are strictly limited, I'll do what I can, but keep Dummo off my back!"

Peter smiled.

"It's Doo-mo and I'll do my best!"

Neal then started towards the door. As he reached it he turned round and said, "Do you think you'll catch him?"

Peter packed his papers away and replied with an air of confidence, "Of course we'll get him, we've got you!"

Neal wished more than anything on earth, that at that particular moment, he could just disappear.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks again, folks, for your input! Next chapter…

The remainder of the day dragged along at a very slow pace, with Neal amusing himself by making rubber band balls and flirting with Shona Dubois from the forensics team. Dhumo had thankfully left the office early to settle into his hotel and Neal was supposed to be researching Mallory's whereabouts along with everybody else. So far though, he had managed to evade the issue very skilfully and was extremely relieved when it was finally time to clock off. He said a quick goodbye to Peter, not wanting to give him an opportunity to ask about what he'd dug up, and left to go home. Peter collected a few more items together and he too left the office. He walked to his car and drove away into the early evening traffic. He arrived home 20 minutes later and thankfully closed his front door, effectively blocking out what had been a very trying day.

Elizabeth came out of the kitchen and handed Peter a beer.

"Hi, Honey. How was your day?" She asked in her concerned manner, not really expecting a positive response.

Peter put his things down and flopped onto the couch.

Elizabeth collected her red wine and sat down next to him.

"Who have I upset, El?" Peter began. " I mean, first of all I'm saddled with Caffrey and his strange antics and now I have to work with Agent Dhumo again who, incidentally, I didn't like working with the first time around! Then to cap it all, Dhumo hates Neal and Neal is being childish about helping with my latest case and since we all have to work together, I'm beginning to feel like a damn referee!"

Elizabeth cuddled up close to him, feeling her husband relax into her embrace.

"I remember Agent Dhumo. Big man, helped you catch Neal, right?"

Peter had a drink and nodded. He was too tired to reply.

"So what's up with Neal? He's usually a great asset on your cases." Elizabeth prompted.

Peter sighed and put his head back to ease his aching neck. He then put his head back upright and continued.

"Not with this one. The perp is an old friend of his and since I know Neal very well, I am pretty convinced he was responsible for stealing the Gruhberg papers back in '04, along with this guy."

Peter was dismayed to see that Elizabeth was actually impressed.

"Neal was responsible for the Gruhberg theft? There is still debate today as to how it was done!" She replied, smiling to herself.

Peter nodded.

"Yes, I know and I'm certain Mr Caffrey was involved!"

Elizabeth took a sip of her wine and Peter could see the appreciation in her eyes.

"For heaven's sake, El, the man is a menace! I can't trust him to cross a road on his own, in case he steals the drain covers!"

Elizabeth laughed gently.

"I'm sorry, Peter! But I can see why he would find it difficult to assist you in catching a friend of his." She smiled in that infectious way that usually had Peter wrapped around her little finger. On this occasion though, Peter felt defensive and so became all FBI.

"May I remind you, that the only reason Neal's breathing good old polluted New York air and not rotting away in some cell is because I persuaded the Parole Board that I could make it work, him being with the FBI. I can't have him picking which cases he wants to work on, so if I tell him to help, he'll help or else!"

Elizabeth patted his arm.

"It's ok, Honey. Just give him time to adjust to the idea and I'm sure he'll come good. He's proved himself trustworthy, but some things will take time. He is still walking the line between right and -not so right, so don't be too hard on him."

Peter had to agree with his beautiful wife's wise words. Neal should thank his lucky stars he had her as an ally.

Neal meanwhile, had gone straight home to find Mozzie enjoying the impressive view of Manhattan.

"Hey, Moz." Neal greeted his friend as he threw his hat on the bed.

Mozzie held up his drink in greeting.

"Hail oh Caesar! I could get used to this, if June ever has another spare room going begging…"

Neal gave him a look which meant '_get real_.'

"No, Moz." He replied definitively.

Mozzie looked hurt.

"Before you cast me aside, may I remind you, that I have spent most of my day finding out details on your behalf, so at least consider it?"

Neal smiled. He enjoyed winding Moz up. "Okay, what did you find out?"

"Well, firstly I put the word out that you want to speak to Mallory"

"And?"

"And, nothing. Give it longer my impatient friend. The Haversham grapevine will soon bear fruit."

Neal nodded. "Okay, thanks. What about Lombardo and Carter?"

Mozzie picked up some papers and handed them to Neal with a look of concern.

"Interesting pair, what is your connection to them?"

Neal looked intently through the papers and said "It's June who knows them, not me. She's in trouble and I intend to help her."

Mozzie became animated.

"Ah ha, well you be very careful of these two. Lombardo lives in Chicago but is in New York to attend a relative's wedding. He's got more fingers in more pies than a dodgy three handed baker. He is not a nice man to know. A lot of his ex-associates are now, allegedly, an integral part of a variety of Chicago bridges."

Neal nodded his understanding.

"And Carter?"

"He's nearly as bad as Lombardo. He now lives in New York but he was, and still is, Lombardo's right hand man. Have you got a death wish or something?"

Neal shook his head and turned to look at Mozzie as he explained.

"Carter stole a gun that Lombardo won from Byron. Lombardo won't believe Carter has it, he thinks June is hiding it and will hurt Cindy if she doesn't return it to him."

Mozzie had on his very confused expression.

"He Threatened June? Hurt Cindy? How do you get involved in all of this! How I long for the good old days of cons, thieving, racketeering and dodging the FBI…"

"Moz, focus. Did you find the gun?" Neal drew his friend back on track.

"Yes I found the gun!" Mozzie grumbled, not happy to even mention it. "Well, I found out where Carter lives and from my sources I understand he keeps it in a safe in an upstairs room."

Neal turned his attention back to the papers in front of him. "Good, Moz, that's very good. Where does he live?"

"Corner of Madison and East 79th." Mozzie answered quietly, hoping Neal wouldn't hear.

Neal digested the information and Mozzie could see he was gradually descending into a world of his own.

"That shouldn't present much of a problem…" Neal said at last.

"Problem? What problem? Tell me more about this problem!" Mozzie hated problems, especially when Neal was involved and even more so if Neal involved him!

"Calm down, Moz. I'll tell you once I've sorted it. Thanks for your help with this. Today has been a lousy one." He gave Mozzie a look of genuine gratitude.

"Bad day at the office?"

"Yeah, you could say. Peter wants me to help him track down Mallory; they know he's in New York."

Moz's eyes grew large.

"Obviously you're not going to…"

"Of course not, but he needs to catch Mallory and if I get in the way…"

"Orange makes you look so washed out..."

Neal looked anxious. "Exactly."

Moz thought for a while before saying, "By the way. This gun…"

Neal just looked impassively him, so Mozzie continued. "Pardon me for being Mr Picky, but I get the distinct impression you intend to steal it?"

Neal, standing there in his impeccable Devore suit and Pinks of London shirt, just looked at him with his infuriatingly neutral expression and still said nothing.

"Just say, hypothetically." Moz prompted.

Neal sat down at the table, opposite Moz.

"OK, let's just say I was - hypothetically."

"Well, how do you intend to do it, with your anklet feeding information back to the suit?"

"I have my ways, Moz. I'll fill you in nearer the time."

Mozzie gave him a look of uncertainty. Neal could see he needed more convincing. "This is important; it's for June's sake." He added.

Mozzie became more animated once again.

"I'm all for helping June, you understand, and you may call me old fashioned, but I like NOT BEING IN PRISON!"

"I understand, I won't risk any of us, I promise." Neal was so convincing when he had to be, but Mozzie was one of the few people on planet earth who weren't taken in.

"That's what you said about the Monte Carlo heist!" He shot back.

Neal had to back track as he remembered **that** fiasco. "OK, I admit that was foolhardy, but you can trust me on this one!"

Mozzie gave him an exasperated look and although he still didn't like it, he knew Neal would do it anyway. He decided it was time to leave before Neal told him too much that he really didn't want to know, so he drained his glass, stood up and walked over to the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Sure, Moz, and thanks again for today."

Mozzie acknowledged with a backward wave of his hand, and closed the door.

Neal gently rubbed his face and thought for a few moments before pouring himself a very large glass of Petit Mouton Pauillo, 2005, Bordeaux.

He sat at the table inside the apartment and started to read the information Mozzie had collated for him. It was very apparent even from this small amount of paperwork, that Lombardo was indeed a very unpleasant man. There were really only two ways to deal with this situation, Neal surmised. Number one, find the gun and return it, and number two, kill Lombardo and dispose of the body. He was considering the options when a cultured English voice announced.

"Neal Caffrey, as I live and breathe!"

Neal looked up in complete astonishment at a figure standing on the patio; how on earth had he missed a man arriving on his patio?

The figure moved more into the light and Neal relaxed.

"Sam! Sam Mallory! The front door, not good enough for you?"

The big man laughed.

"Impressive place you've got, Mr Caffrey. I didn't want to attract unnecessary attention, so I came via the scenic route!" He waved his hand to indicate that he had scaled the wall.

They embraced warmly and Samson continued.

"Heard on the grapevine that you wanted to see me? Still with Mozzie, I see?"

Neal poured his friend a glass of wine.

"He gets things done. I'm glad you came, it's good to see you."

Mallory smiled warmly. "Good to see you too, but I'm intrigued since I've only been here a few days. How did you know I was here?"

Neal handed the glass to Mallory and answered solemnly, "The FBI knows you're here, and they would like to 'talk' to you."

Mallory hesitated for a moment, mulling this over.

"The FBI, eh? Well I don't think I'll be taking them up on that offer!"

Neal smiled. It really was good to see him again. Mallory had a sip of his drink and asked.

"Nice place you have, what've you been up to since 2004? Haven't gone all honest on me have you?"

Neal then had to explain about his ending up in prison, the deal he'd made with the FBI and then he added about how he only rented this room, didn't even own a car and had to wear a tracking anklet 24/7.

Mallory listened patiently. "I didn't know you'd been inside, Neal. Bad luck."

Neal nodded his thanks.

"But if you now work with the FBI…" He glanced around, suddenly suspicious.

Neal jumped to clear things up.

"You're safe with me, Sam. I would never put you at risk, believe me." He looked earnestly at his friend.

It took Mallory only a split second to decide he could trust Neal, such had been their friendship.

"OK, matey I believe you, but won't they know something's fishy when you don't actually do anything to help them?"

Neal shrugged.

"That's my concern. Anyhow, what brings you to New York?"

Mallory took another sip of his wine and rolled the stem of the glass in his fingers, admiring the dark red liquid moving inside.

"You do." He announced quietly, still observing the viscous movement of the wine in his glass.

Neal half smiled. Was this a wind up?

"Me? What do you mean, exactly?"

Mallory was swallowing his wine and so didn't reply, but held up his hand in a gesture of 'wait a minute.' He searched around in his ruck sack and produced a photograph which he handed silently to Neal.

Neal examined it for a short while before saying.

"This is a miniature by the English artist Nicholas Hilliard. It's titled 'Portrait of an unidentified man.' if my memory serves me correctly."

Mallory nodded obviously impressed, but he already knew that Neal would have known what the picture was.

"100% correct."

Neal gave him the photo back. "What of it?"

Mallory put the photo on the table and looked at it, lovingly allowing his finger to trace the figures outline.

"I want you to copy it for me."

Neal looked completely astounded.

"You want me to what?"

"Am I not speaking my native English, Neal? I want you to forge this for me, so that I can swap it for the one in the London Art Gallery Private Collection, and no one will suspect!"

Neal was dumbstruck for a while.

"Sam, I'm seriously out of practice!" Neal said at last.

Mallory wasn't bothered.

"It's like riding a bike, you never forget and you are one of the best. I've come all this way because I don't know anyone else who is as good as you."

Neal was flattered in one way, but unsure in another.

"Let's get this straight. You want me to fake a Nicholas Hilliard?"

Mallory nodded, his grin getting larger.

"Why on earth not my dear boy?"

Neal looked away and thought for a while. Why shouldn't he do this for an old friend? Due to the coolness between himself and Peter at the moment, it made his decision easy. He turned to look at Mallory.

"How long have I got?"

"Now you're talking! I am here for another week, so get you brushes out, and get painting!"

Neal put the brakes on.

"Whoa! One week? Sam, I need longer than a week, I haven't got the correct paints or canvas."

Mallory drained his glass and patted the bag.

"Panic not, Neal. I have most of the items you require right here with me."

He produced a box from the rucksack which was full of various items. Neal was delighted with the contents of the box and as he considered forging such a well- known painting, he felt the old stirrings coursing through his veins. He would do this, and how funny that Mallory wasn't in New York to steal anything! This miniature was in London so Peter would have been worked up over nothing.

Mallory then said "I'll make it worth your while, Neal. Name your price."

Neal had another way he wished to be recompensed.

"Forget money, Sam. I have a little problem of my own that you can help me with."

The big man's eyes twinkled.

"Go on."

"It involves a mobster, a gun and a power cut!"

They then proceeded to talk until the small hours. When Mallory finally took his leave, it wasn't worth Neal going to bed. Instead he had a shower, changed his clothes and set off for work


	7. Chapter 7

A bit more background to move the story along. Thanks for input. It's really nice to know you folks are out there! I am very envious of my friends over the pond, who are getting to see all the new episodes! We are still waiting over here…

Neal arrived at FBI headquarters and had very nearly fallen asleep in the lift. By the time the double

doors slid open on floor twenty one, he had effortlessly donned the persona of Neal Caffrey – FBI consultant, just one of many skins he had worn throughout his life. He entered the office and saw Cruz talking to Liz from records.

"Hi, seen Peter?" He asked in his easy going manner.

Lauren handed him an address written on a scrap of paper. She smiled broadly at him, which he felt was slightly suspicious.

"Yep, you are to meet him at his car to check out this address, could be a hit."

Neal looked at the address and hid his relief. Mallory had told him where he was staying and this wasn't even close. Neal pocketed the paper and smiled at Lauren.

"Thanks, I'll go find him."

Lauren smiled again, but there was a hint of mischief in her eyes.

"Have a nice day!"

Neal thanked her and then wandered down to the garage under the FBI building. He saw Peter standing by his car.

"Morning, Peter!" He announced as he approached.

Peter had been on his cell but had just finished the call when Neal arrived.

"Hey, Neal. Did Lauren give you that address?"

Neal waved the piece of paper in the air.

"Got it here. I'm intrigued as to where this came from!"

Peter put his cell back in his inside pocket and looked at Neal over the roof of the car.

"Agent Dhumo has been doing some digging and this got flagged up."

Neal nodded, suppressing a silent groan. So that was why Lauren was looking so smug.

"Talking of which," Peter continued, "How are your investigations coming along? Find out anything?" He gave Neal his interrogation look, which the con man hated.

Neal stalled.

"Not really, you know how it is. June was still upset last night and before I knew it, the evening had passed."

Peter nodded unconvinced and said with insinuation. "Yes, Neal, I know exactly how it is."

Neal could sense Peter's disapproval but that was something he could handle.

"Shall we get going?" Neal asked brightly, moving the conversation along and went to get into the front passenger seat.

A large object suddenly moved in from his right hand side and opened the door of Peter's car.

"You ride in the back, Caffrey." Dhumo's growling voice declared. "If it were up to me, you'd ride in the trunk!"

Neal looked at Peter for support, but he was already inside the car, seated at the wheel.

Dhumo sat in the front seat and slammed the door. Neal was incredulous and just stood there for a moment, before finally opening the back door and getting in; closing the door with a little more force than was necessary.

Peter drove the Taurus through the busy New York streets. Dhumo competently programmed the sat nav and it dictated the route in its gentle voice.

Neal was brooding in the back. He didn't even get to change stations on the radio in Peter's car, let alone mess with the sat nav and Agent Dhumo was monopolising the conversation as well. After being bored silly by FBI talk for thirty minutes, they arrived at the designated address and Neal couldn't wait to escape. He pulled on the door handle but to his dismay found that the child lock was on. Sheer frustration welled up inside him, as he had to wait to be let out by Peter.

"Sorry about that Neal," Peter said supressing a smile. "I didn't realise the lock was on!"

As he climbed out, Neal straightened his tie, brushed down his suit and placed his hat impeccably on his head.

"Yeah, sure you didn't." Neal replied, giving Peter a scowl before looking around him. "Is this the place?"

Dhumo answered much to Neal's annoyance.

"Yeah. We have a report of a strange individual coming and going at odd times, in and around these premises. Since you have a tracker, that unfortunately rules you out, Caffrey, so next best thing is, it's one of your pals!"

Neal knew what he'd promised Peter, but enough was enough.

"Are you always this blinkered on a case, Agent Dummo?" Neal said in his best patronising voice. "Perhaps you'd like to pin the Kennedy assassination on me too? Oh no, wait a minute, I wasn't born. Phew, that's a lucky escape for me then, eh?"

The mocking smile on Agent Dhumo's face disappeared, to be replaced by the beginnings of a snarl.

Peter could see the warning signs and stepped in.

"Enough! We have a job to do, so let's go do it!" He stalked off without bothering to check if the other two were following.

Dhumo walked past Neal and deliberately knocked into him with force.

"Watch yourself, Caffrey, Burke isn't always gonna be here to watch your back!" He snarled under his breath.

Neal corrected his stumble to prevent himself from falling on the floor. He had foreseen Dhumo's clumsy attempt at intimidation and smiled to himself as he held the FBI Agent's ID card, newly picked from his rather large suit pocket.

Peter had entered the building and after a short while it was apparent the tip off had been flawed.

Neal couldn't help but feel smug as Peter brought the big Agent down to size. They then spent the rest of the day looking at every empty or newly rented property that could possibly be home to an English thief abroad. Peter had to intervene on more than on occasion to prevent Dhumo from flattening Neal, who seemed to delight in winding the big man up at every available opportunity. By the end of the day they had covered a lot of ground and Neal wouldn't have cared less if he never walked anywhere ever again.

The three of them ambled back to the car and Agent Dhumo spoke to Peter.

"Agent Burke. I have some things to do over this side of town, so if it's ok with you, I'll take my leave of you here and see you tomorrow?"

Peter was pleased, because he was tiring of Dhumo's company.

"Fine by me. See you tomorrow." He answered as politely as he could.

Dhumo ignored Neal completely and walked away like he was a man on a mission. This air of urgency in the Agent's departure wasn't lost on the con man, who surmised he must be up to something.

"Right, let's get back to head quarters. I've had enough traipsing around for one day!" Peter announced decisively, looking at Neal.

Peter went to get into the car and Neal followed him, only to stop and open the back door.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked, confused.

"I'll get in the trunk if you prefer!" Neal replied cynically, indicating the back of the car with his outstretched hand.

Peter sighed. "Neal…"

"Look, you've made it obvious that you and Dummo are in charge here, so I will be a good consultant and sit in the back. Wouldn't want to upset the dream team now would I?"

"For heaven's sake, Neal will you grow up!" Peter admonished, like a father to a wayward son.

Neal just stared him out before climbing in the back seat and slamming the door.

Peter flung his hands up in despair.

"Fine! Have it your own way. I hope you get car sick!"

He then got in the car and started to drive back to headquarters.

The journey passed in complete silence for five long minutes, until Peter finally took the mature decision to say something.

"You said June was upset yesterday, is she alright?" He got Neal's attention in the rear view mirror.

Neal replied, but in very clipped tones.

"She's got a little problem but nothing we can't fix. Don't think we need to involve the FBI, thank you."

Peter nodded. Another short silence followed in which Neal drew a figure in the condensation on the car window. Peter then asked out of the blue, "Where would you hide out? If you were Mallory, I mean?"

Neal smiled slightly at Peter's clumsy attempt to catch him off guard and replied, "The Four Seasons Hotel!"

Peter gave him a sarcastic look.

"Yeah, at 2000 bucks a night, you would!"

Neal let his smile fade.

"I'm not Mallory, Peter. I hardly knew the guy."

"Yes, so you keep saying. Well if that's the case then I'm Robert de Niro!"

Neal piped up from the back doing a very poor impression from 'Taxi Driver.'

"You talkin to me? Are you talkin to me?"

Peter's face suddenly went serious.

"Yes, Neal, I am talking to you, but recently it's been a one way conversation. When are you gonna wake up and see that you need to help me out on this one? Questions will be asked higher up about your lack of input in this case and I won't be able to protect you, especially not now I have Agent Dhumo as my shadow."

Peter could see he had struck a nerve. Through the rear view mirror he observed Neal's inner turmoil as he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed gently. Finally he spoke.

"I will help you, Peter, but it's been a few years since I last worked with Mall…"

Peter smiled inwardly at Neal's uncharacteristic slip, but he let it go.

"…last heard from Mallory so just give me a couple of days to see what I can dig up."

Peter knew when to stop pushing a point and so replied. "That's fine, Neal, just make sure you come up with something I can give to Hughes."

Fifteen minutes later they arrived back at headquarters and Peter parked the car in his space. Neal sat dutifully in the back waiting to be let out.

Peter shook his head and couldn't help from chuckling as he opened the door.

"We're home, kids!" He announced.

Neal climbed out and put his hat on his head.

"Thank you." He said, ever polite. Peter liked that about Neal, even when tired and fed up he always remained courteous.

They took the lift up to floor twenty one and once they were in the office Neal turned to Burke.

"I just need to check something out before I go, so I'll see you in the morning." He said it with a smile on his face but Peter, like Mozzie, was learning to read Neal like a book and could sense when he was up to something.

"Sure, give my regards to June; I hope the rats get dealt with!" Peter replied.

Neal acknowledged with a slight laugh and walked away.

Peter had a naturally suspicious nature which came in handy in this job, and he could sense when something wasn't right. What was Caffrey up to? He was usually out of the place like a bolt of greased lightening, so Peter waited around and surreptitiously watched Neal as he went to talk to Liz from records. Peter felt bad about spying on his friend, but then again he told himself, he was an FBI Agent and Neal was a convicted felon. He watched the interaction between the two of them and couldn't really gauge what was going on, but he was suspicious that Neal may be chatting Liz up for his own purposes. He suddenly shook himself free of such negative thoughts and decided he would just go home and forget all about Neal Caffrey for a few hours. Oh if only it were that simple!


	8. Chapter 8

This is a longer chapter just to move things along…

Neal arrived back home shortly after dusk. June had gone out for the evening to play bridge with some friends, so that meant he wouldn't be disturbed. He changed quickly out of his suit and put on sweat pants and a t-shirt and then erected the easel. He could feel the old excitement building as he took the paints, brushes and canvas out of Mallory's box. He had to check himself though, because before he started on the actual miniature, he needed to practice. As he had told Mallory, he hadn't done a lot of painting for a few years, unless you counted some sketches and artwork he'd done in prison. Deftly using a pencil, his hand moved with a graceful rhythm over the sheet of paper creating a myriad of images, ranging from the sublime to the ridiculous. He then took up a brush and began to cover the paper in a plethora of shades and colour. He stopped after an hour or so and inspected his handiwork. Sam had been correct in his assumption that he would find it easy; he hadn't lost his touch and now he was ready to start.

Using a large magnifier, Neal set about creating a perfect forgery. He worked feverishly into the early hours, lovingly recreating the beautiful miniature. His skills were second to none and if anyone had seen the exquisite painting that was emerging from the tips of his brushes, they would have understood how he had come to be top of Peter's hit list for so long. When Peter first took on the Caffrey case he had learnt early on that Neal was a highly skilled, highly intelligent adversary and he had actually enjoyed the thrill of the chase. Neal's forgeries were definitely in a league of their own and that, coupled with his many other considerable talents, had made Peter's decision to have him as a consultant, one of the easiest he had ever had to make.

Neal stopped what he was doing and stretched his aching muscles. He had been concentrating so hard, he had forgotten to change position and now his muscles were complaining loudly. Glancing at the clock, he realised it was now four am and decided that one sleepless night was enough and so stopped and went to bed. He descended into restful sleep very quickly.

The following morning Neal was awakened by what he thought was Peter's voice talking to June. He told himself that he wasn't fully awake yet and must be dreaming, but the sounds wouldn't disappear. Bleary eyed, he went out onto the patio and was dismayed to see Peter was actually there in the flesh, chatting to June over coffee.

He saw Neal approach and waved.

"Morning, Neal! Thought I'd drop by and see how June was and give you a lift in."

Neal shaded his eyes from the sun as he walked outside and mumbled "Thanks." He hoped his annoyance didn't show.

June came quickly over to Neal and said, "I've told Agent Burke that I'm much better today now that I seem to have the 'rat' problem in hand." The wink she gave him was very surreptitious and she gently touched his cheek before leaving them to their coffee.

Behind him, Peter piped up.

"You could have said it was rats, Neal! No need to be embarrassed, El and I had a pest problem in a basement apartment we rented a few years back. I tried everything to get rid of them and in the end we had to get professional help. She'll be rid of them in no time!"

Neal poured himself a strong coffee and answered cryptically. "That's the idea!"

Peter drank his coffee with relish and carried on talking in a friendly tone. "I was wondering. What is it that **you **think Mallory might be after?"

Neal laughed, but there was no humour in it.

"He could be after absolutely anything, Peter. I get the feeling you think I know more than I'm letting on about his visit here…"

Peter smiled back. "No, I do not think that. I'm just picking your brains, because after all that's what we tend to do when we're working a case!" He stopped to take a look at his watch. "Anyhow, time to go. Don't want you to be late again!" Peter then sat back in his chair and raised his coffee cup.

Neal had to shower very quickly and put on his suit virtually on the run but it wasn't long before they were heading down to the car.

Once by the car, Peter noticed Neal look around expecting Dhumo to appear.

"Just get in!" He reassured with a smile.

Once under way, Peter began to outline the plans for the day.

"Listen up. I want to discuss with you what's happening today. I've been talking to Agent Dhumo and we've decided that we should check the major museum's and art galleries to ensure their security is up to scratch."

Neal nodded, beginning to look interested. "I'll take the Metropolitan…" He started to say.

"Uh Huh." Peter interrupted. "Not you. Not today. Today you'll be manning a desk at FBI headquarters."

"Peter…" Neal put on his hurt expression.

"Don't 'Peter' me. I think it's about time you put that master criminal mind of yours to good use and found me something concrete I can give to Hughes. I have a nasty feeling he might take me off the case unless we make some progress."

Neal didn't look convinced and so Peter continued, "Look, it's only for one day, and once Hughes sees that you have co-operated, you can go back to swanning around in your cartoon suits. Believe me, I would much rather have you out with there me on the case than Dhumo, but I need your input and inside knowledge on this." He waited a short time before adding, "Please Neal, it's important."

Neal had to agree.

"Okay, I'll see what I can dig up and by the way, the suit's a Devore!"

Peter smiled. "Whatever. You could use the time today to do some research and put forward a few ideas as to what targets he might be after. I have a feeling it may have something to do with the Bruno Fleischer exhibition at the Guggenheim…"

Neal nodded. Research, now there's a good idea…

They soon arrived at FBI headquarters and ascended in the lift to the main office. Once through the doors, Neal walked over to his desk and removing his hat, sat down with little enthusiasm.

Peter called Jones over to Neal's desk and addressed them both.

"Just to ensure you don't find better things to do, Jones here will be your minder whilst I'm away."

Both Neal and Jones were not exactly thrilled at the arrangement, but since they got on so well, it wasn't going to be a problem.

Jones nodded to his boss and smiling said, "It will be cool, Peter. Neal and I will get along fine."

Agent Dhumo then appeared like a bad smell and Jones suddenly had to be somewhere else.

"Ready when you are, Agent Burke." He announced loudly. Then, making sure Peter had gone on ahead, he turned to Neal and said, "Be a good convict, Caffrey, and get your homework done before we get back, or there'll be trouble!"

Neal was not by nature a violent man, but at that moment in time, Dhumo had come very close to being the FBI's next murder case.

The forced day in the office turned out to be a blessing in disguise for Neal. As Peter had requested, he used his time beneficially and checked out useful information. The trouble was, in Neal's case the 'information' was not quite what Peter would have had in mind. Using the detailed street maps, he firstly worked out the most direct way to get to and from Carter's place, avoiding all the CCTV cameras. He then contacted City Hall and by pretending to be Philip Masterton from the American Institute of Architects, he obtained a copy of the original blueprints for Carter's building. He then contacted the U.S Marshall's office in New York and had a very interesting discussion with one of the Marshalls about the power supply in their headquarters. Such was Neal's charisma and charm he managed to coax some very sensitive information out of the Marshall who seemed to just open up to the 'engineer' he was speaking to on the phone. Finally, he did some research on tracking anklets and how they work, or more importantly how they can fail. Jones kept looking over from time to time, which Neal acknowledged with a smile and nod, but he never once came over to check what the master forger was actually doing. It was just as well really, because by 4pm Neal had successfully collected all the information he needed for a successful heist. Looking at the time, Neal realised he should have put something down on paper for Peter, so he used the computer to search the catalogues of the major galleries and museums in New York and using his expert knowledge he wrote down a list of anything and everything that could be small enough and valuable enough, for Mallory to steal. He wanted to be sure Peter was sent off in totally the wrong direction and by 5pm he'd had enough of desk work and so went to look for Jones. He found him in the file room, earnestly searching for some long lost piece of information.

"Hi, Jones. I've got what Peter wants so I'm cutting and running now." Jones looked at him quizzically for his choice of words as he took the proffered paperwork.

"No, I don't mean I'm literally 'running', how can I with this attached to me?" He lifted his trouser leg slightly to show the anklet, blinking away.

Jones nodded. "That's fine, Neal, thanks. I'll let Peter know you've prepared something for him."

"Thank you, see you in the morning." Neal replied and picking up his A4 envelope of 'research' was out of there like a shot.

Across the other side of town the day hadn't been particularly beneficial for Peter. Dhumo would insist on talking about Caffrey at every opportunity and it was really starting to grate on him. They had just left the Museum of Modern Art, when once again Dhumo started on his favourite subject.

"Do you trust Caffrey, Agent Burke? I mean really trust him? After all, he is a master criminal."

Peter ignored the question and continued walking, hoping Dhumo would take the hint.

Unfortunately, Dhumo was as thick skinned as a rhinoceros and so carried on. "I mean a lot of people, me included, think it's a bad idea having him working for the FBI…"

Burke suddenly stopped and turned to face the source of his irritation.

"Agent Dhumo. All that you need concern yourself with is the fact that I trust him implicitly. As a matter of fact, that is all that matters to my superiors too. Can you tell me what is it about him that riles you so much?"

Dhumo shook his head before answering, "I just get the impression he's playing us. We both know he was involved in the Gruhberg theft along with Mallory and I'm convinced he's helping him now. A man like Caffrey doesn't change his spots and don't you find it strange that he's come up with nothing of any significance to help in the inquiry? I know he's up to something but I just need to prove it."

Peter's usual placid demeanour was replaced by one of subdued anger.

"Let me make this crystal clear for you, Agent Dhumo. We do not know for sure that Caffrey was involved in the Gruhberg theft, its pure speculation and I would advise you to stop making your personal feelings so vocal in future. I also know that if he is helping Mallory in anyway, I will find out and when I do, I will personally escort him back to prison and throw away the key. Got it?"

Dhumo smiled satisfactorily. "Got it."

Peter hadn't realised it, but Dhumo had been planting the poisonous seeds of suspicion in his mind all day and now all he had to do was wait for them to germinate.

Neal returned home clutching his research tightly and once through the door, immediately changed clothes and continued working on the miniature. The time passed so quickly and his concentration was such that he didn't hear Mozzie enter his apartment later that evening. Mozzie approached the easel and stood quietly behind his friend. He looked in admiration at the exquisite work of art that Neal was producing and couldn't find the right words to say. When the words did finally come, they were a little bit disappointing to say the least.

"I suppose the suit doesn't know about this, either?"

Neal turned round looking like he'd been tasered.

"Mozzie! For heaven's sake, don't creep up on me like that!"

Mozzie just shrugged and looked closer at the painting.

"So, branching out into Hilliard's now are we?"

Neal's heart still had to come back down out of his mouth.

"It's a favour for a friend." He said by way of explanation.

Mozzie gave him a sideways glance.

"If it's for Mallory, just say so. And before you deny it, I know he's helping you out in some way to get the gun for June."

Neal looked innocently at his long- time friend as Mozzie continued.

"Remember, I have been around you for a long time, Neal, and I know when you are up to something. The trouble is there is another someone out there who also knows you very well, and he may be having the same suspicions…"

Neal looked a bit perturbed by this. He looked at the picture and put down his brush.

"You're right, Moz. This is for Mallory and it's finished now, just needs to dry thoroughly. You're also right about the gun. I was going to wait until tomorrow, but I agree, it may be a good idea to get the gun tonight and let Mallory get the hell out of here."

Mozzie was still looking at the miniature forgery in great detail.

"You've surpassed yourself, my friend. This is excellent quality. Do you fancy doing another? Only I have a few contacts…"

"No, Moz. This was purely a one off, although I appreciate your vote of confidence." Neal smiled broadly, his ego still responded well to praise.

"OK, so what do we do now? If you want to get the gun tonight, remember you will need Mallory." Mozzie said helpfully as he sat down on the sofa.

Neal picked up an untraceable cell phone and walking out onto the patio, rang his friend. After a long conversation and references to the blueprints, he returned and spoke to Moz.

"Mallory's up for it. He's been doing some homework and apparently Carter is out at a card game tonight, so he is going to Carter's place in about a couple of hours to gain entry and make it secure so that I can get to the safe. In the mean time I need you to work out how to fix the power so that my anklet goes quiet for about half an hour."

Mozzie looked like he'd been shot.

"Mess with the tracking anklet? Have you lost your mind? I told you, the thing is tamper proof, period!"

Neal waved aside his concerns.

"I don't mean touch the anklet. I agree I'd have FBI Agents appearing out of the woodwork. I mean fix the power at the Marshall's office that monitor the data. I was chatting to one of them earlier and the power cut we had yesterday apparently upset a few trackers. Because it was only off for a short time it didn't affect mine due to it being so sophisticated, but anything over fifteen minutes will mean I should be off the radar for a while."

Mozzie was beginning to understand the logic but was still unconvinced. "Alright mastermind, how do you suggest I get near the Marshall's office? I can't believe I actually said that…"

Neal went over to his table and picked up a small card. He brought it over and handed it to a fretting Mozzie.

"You use this."

Mozzie looked at the card that Neal had just handed to him.

"Agent Oscar Dhumo? Oh I see, now you want me to impersonate an FBI Agent? Are you trying to get me arrested? _And where did you get this?"_ His voice rose a couple of decibels as he waved the card around as if it was on fire.

Neal involuntarily put up his hands as if to protect himself from Mozzie's outburst.

"Calm down, Moz. It fell out of his inside pocket." Mozzie gave him a disbelieving stare.

Neal carried on. "Come on. You will only have to use it if absolutely necessary, but it will mean you can get nearer to the main electrics so that the signal will be interrupted to my anklet. Look, Mallory will have dealt with the alarms and CCTV at Carter's place, so all you need to do is interrupt the signal long enough, say half an hour, for me to slip in, crack the safe and slip out again, easy! I know you have all that Russian espionage equipment back at your place, and even I know what you have to do, courtesy of a U.S Marshall!"

Mozzie grumbled accepting defeat. "I don't even look like an Oscar…"

Neal had to smile. "Neither does Dhumo!" he replied.

Mozzie had to admit that working with Neal had always been high octane. Neal then gently began to remove the miniature from the easel.

"Thanks Moz. We'd better get ready; we need to be in position when Sam cuts the alarms. Oh, by the way, can you help me to put this painting in the oven so that it can be heat dried for a while?"

Mozzie looked again at Dhumo's card and put it in his pocket, shaking his head.

"One of us is going to regret this!" He mumbled, helping Neal to place the painting in the oven.

Peter had finished his shift and gone straight home. He hadn't enjoyed today. Ten hours in the company of Agent Dhumo had worn him down. If he were honest, he would have admitted that he missed Neal's company, but in his present mood that wouldn't be happening. Although Neal could be a pain in the arse, he had an intelligence and quickness of mind that Peter could bounce ideas off. He also had a charm about him and an almost childlike appeal that was the key to the con man's success.

Peter did trust Neal, but Dhumo's words kept repeating themselves like a mantra in his brain. Could a career con artist/criminal like Neal ever truly change his ways? Why was he skulking around Liz from records? And why hadn't he done much to help catch Mallory? Peter's thoughts were interrupted by Elizabeth speaking.

"Busy day?"

Peter looked up sheepishly realising he hadn't heard a word she'd said. "I'm sorry, El. What were you saying?"

Elizabeth Burke was used to her husband being distracted by work.

"I was just asking if you'd had a busy day and wondered how Neal and Dhumo were getting along together?"

Peter sighed heavily. "I couldn't face another round of sniping and innuendo from those two, it's like working with Abbott and Costello, so I separated them today. I told Neal to stay put in the office, and you can imagine how well that went down." Elizabeth nodded. "That left me stuck with Dhumo all day. I tell you, that guy…"

Elizabeth stroked her husband's face gently. "Poor you! Still, at least it gave Neal time to do some research for the case. I'm sure that will be useful?"

Peter looked thoughtful.

"I'm not sure, El. Neal's acting strange and I worry about what type of research he's conducting."

Elizabeth gave her husband a questioning look.

"Don't you trust him? Is that what you're saying?"

Peter rubbed his tired eyes.

"I don't know. Yes, I think I trust him but then Dhumo says…"

Elizabeth interrupted. "Agent Dhumo? What has he got to do with anything?"

"Remember he knows Neal very well. He helped me catch him the first time and he has his suspicions about his motives in all of this. Of course I want to trust Neal, but he doesn't make it easy."

Elizabeth nodded and as usual thought before answering.

"You've got to start trusting Neal at some point. He may not be too keen on helping you bring down a friend and yes, he's probably stalling, but it doesn't mean he's up to anything sinister. He's just been released after spending four years in a maximum security prison, which for a free spirit like Neal must have been a living nightmare! I doubt he ever found anyone in there with whom he could have a half decent conversation, let alone strike up companionship. He likes working with you, and I can't see him throwing away this chance to remain free and have an intellectual equal to spar with, can you?

Peter always appreciated hearing Elizabeth's take on a situation.

"You know what? You're right, as always! I do like to consider myself an intellectual equal with Mr Caffrey!" He leant over and gave her a loving kiss.

Elizabeth smiled at him and said. "You know what I think? I think that this Agent Dhumo is jealous of Neal and I would be wary of his motives."

Peter kissed her again, and the evening began to get a whole lot better.


	9. Chapter 9

**Note:** Meccano is a metal construction set developed in in England in 1901 for children.

Thanks for you comments. Very much appreciated and taken into account!

Over at June's, Mozzie had been gone for just over an hour and Neal decided it was now time he should get going. Adjusting his tie in the mirror, he cast an appreciative eye over his appearance before picking up a small bag that was lying by the door. One last smile to his reflection and he was on his way. Neal Caffrey was back; con man, thief and forger extraordinaire was returning to what he did best.

He left June's house surreptitiously by the side exit and approached her Jaguar parked in the road. He had cleared it with June that he could borrow the car and since he had a variety of driving licences in his possession, it shouldn't be a problem if he were stopped by the cops.

He hadn't driven for a long time and technically shouldn't be now, but small details like that didn't bother Neal. He started the car engine and it purred into life, allowing him to pull out into the New York traffic. Remembering his chosen route, he took great pleasure in playing with the car radio; turning up the music so that it filled the car and it felt good to be in total control of his own life if only for a fleeting moment. It didn't take long until he was near Madison and East 79th Street, so he parked the car a few blocks away and waited. If he went any further he would be outside his radius, so now he had to play the waiting game.

Mozzie meanwhile, had gathered his tech equipment together and had arrived at the Pearl Street offices of the U.S Marshalls. He still couldn't believe he'd been talked into doing this, but he liked June and wanted to help her, so that was what he kept telling himself. He walked around the back of the building and secreted himself in the bushes, near to the basement. Opening up his metal suitcase, he started to set up what looked like a giant Meccano model. Once the object was assembled, he put on a pair of headphones and carefully adjusted the direction of the antenna until he was satisfied. Switching the contraption on, he counted down the minutes and then said quietly, "Keep your eye on the lights, Neal, and then go for it!"

He really hoped that the smooth criminal was on top form tonight.

Neal was still waiting patiently, keeping an eye on the anklet for any sign of change.

"C'mon, Moz." He said quietly under his breathe. Then he saw it. The green light was alternating between amber and red, but there was no alarm to be heard.

"You did it!" He whispered appreciatively and getting out of the car, walked with a feline grace and speed towards Carter's place. Within five minutes he was there. He easily scaled the wall surrounding the property and walked unseen around the back until he found the entrance to the basement. Donning latex gloves, he took out his lock breaking kit, selected the appropriate tools and within 1 minute the door has been opened and he was inside.

Neal had to admit that the house was tastefully furnished, and there were quite a few desirable items which he had to force himself to walk past.

"Mallory!" He called out in a stage whisper. "Mallory, where are you?"

Mallory appeared at the top of the stairs. "Cameras and alarms all in sleeping mode, my boy!" He announced brightly.

Neal took one more appraising look at a particularly nice Goya, before running up the stairs onto the first floor landing.

"Where's the safe?" He asked, adrenalin beginning to build.

"Apparently it's in a first floor room, but no luck with either of these two." He indicated two large rooms to the left of the staircase.

"Alright, I'll search this one, you take the front one." Mallory nodded and went to check.

Neal entered the large room and cast his skilled eye over the walls. There was a large mirror, a few family photographs and several paintings. It was one of the small modern paintings that caught Neal's attention and checking that his gloves were on tightly, he walked over to the painting and scrutinised it for the alarm wires. Bingo. Virtually invisible to the untrained eye, Neal was easily able to detect them and knowing the alarm was dormant, he gently slid the painting off its hangers and revealed the safe.

"Mallory, in here! I've found it!"

Mallory came into the room and seeing the painting propped up on the floor said. "What on earth made you think it was behind that one?"

Neal looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Why did you make a bee line for that particular picture?" Sam indicated the multi-coloured abstract oil painting with a slight grimace.

Neal looked at the painting and then back at Mallory.

"Isn't it obvious?"

Mallory shook his head. "Not to me."

"It's a Haas." Neal said expecting a reaction.

Mallory didn't oblige, he just shrugged as if to say "So what?"

"I was suspicious because it's been hung upside down!" Neal announced as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Mallory nodded but really couldn't see how anyone could tell, or care, which way up the multi coloured blob was supposed to hang. "Yeah, of course it is." He muttered. "I see it now."

Neal sighed. "Amateur!"

He then turned his attention to the job in hand, kneeling in front of the safe.

"Keep an eye on my anklet, will you? If it changes to green, run like hell!"

Mallory understood. "You just deal with that beauty, Neal. I'll give you three minutes!"

Neal was intrigued by this particular model. He gently ran his fingers over the surface of the safe, taking in every detail.

"Interesting. It's a Parker Smith 45/8D. These were manufactured in the 1980's so I haven't dealt with any of them."

"No excuses, boy. You're on the clock!" Mallory goaded.

Neal was up for the challenge and taking the tumbler gently in his hand, started to listen for the exquisite sounds that meant he was breaking the combination. The silence seemed to last for an age, but Neal had the patience of a saint when it came to his work and finally, with concentration written all over his face, he took hold of the handle and pulled. The door swung open.

"Don't get too cocky, it took you four minutes!" Mallory chided, but his admiration was obvious.

Neal could see the gun sitting inside. It was lying on a piece of velvet and even though it was in the confines of the safe, it still looked special. The silver could be seen shimmering even in the dim light and Neal took a short time to admire it before lifting it out. There was no time to waste and so he wrapped it in a cloth and put it in his bag. He then put a flower inside on the velvet cloth and resealed the safe.

The anklet was still pulsating amber and red so Neal began to think this might actually work, not that he had any doubts, of course.

Mallory spoke to Neal with urgency. "You get back within your radius before the power gets reconnected, and I'll reset the alarms and cameras. I'll even replace this horrid little painting and I'll see you at your place later!"

Neal put his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Thanks, Sam." He then took off quickly, going back down into the basement, (past that gorgeous Goya…) and emerged safely into the empty street. He arrived back at the car not a moment too soon. As he started up the engine, he looked down at the anklet and saw that the light was now blinking green again. With determination written all over his face, he drove straight towards The Blue Note Jazz Club on West 3rd Street; now it was time for the next phase of the operation.

Mozzie meanwhile, had been jamming the tracking signals using his high tech equipment and dead on thirty minutes he cut the jammer and the tracking signal was restored. He packed everything back into the metal suitcase and started to walk away back to the main street and was almost there, when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Stop! What the hell do you think you're doing?" It was deep and not friendly.

Mozzie froze at first, but then self- preservation and years of experience kicked in. He turned around and put his hand to his lips. "SSHHHH!" He motioned to the Marshall who was standing behind him.

The man was taken aback and it took him a few seconds to respond.

"Don't you 'SSHH' me, who are you and what are you doing on US Marshall property?"

Mozzie put down his suitcase and said in an arrogant fashion, "I'm with the FBI and I have followed a suspect onto this property and now you've probably scared him off!"

The Marshall just looked at Mozzie and smiling replied, "So you're with the FBI?"

Mozzie was fired up now. "You find that funny, Marshall?" He snapped back, trying to sound authoritative.

The Marshall had his gun drawn and was in no mood for games.

"Let's just say I'm a bit dubious. I.D – Now!"

Under his breath, Mozzie cursed Neal with every curse he'd ever heard and even added a few more nasty ones that he'd invented. He handed over the doctored I.D to the Marshall, who looked it over and seemed satisfied.

"I'm sorry, Agent Dhumo, but you should have let us know you were here. We patrol these grounds regularly and there is no unauthorised access."

Mozzie snatched the I.D back and answered, "Well I'll remember to tell my suspect not to bother you next time round! I bet he's long gone now, so I'll escort myself off the premises!"

The Marshall put his gun away and said, "Okay, but next time I'll have to report you!"

Mozzie raised his hand in acknowledgement as he walked away, but didn't look round, just in case the Marshall saw how much he was sweating.

Meanwhile, at the Burke household, Peter had been notified by the Marshall's office that there was a problem with the tracking data for Neal's anklet. Dragging himself out of bed, he kissed Elizabeth and apologised for having to leave.

"I have to go to the office and check this out, honey. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Elizabeth nodded her understanding. "Give Neal the benefit of the doubt…" She said sleepily.

Back in the office, Jones was already there and had pulled up the data up to the point where the signal became interrupted.

Burke cast his eye over Neal's recorded movements and discussed them with Jones.

"He went home after leaving here, arriving at 5.30pm. He then stayed at home until 10.15pm, when he went out. He must have used a taxi because he gets to this point fifteen minutes later. Even Neal can't con time."

Jones smiled to himself. He wouldn't put anything past Caffrey…

Peter continued, "Then, that's when the data goes strange. The Marshalls can't say for sure what happened, but it doesn't seem odd to them, they're blaming another power cut. Does it seem odd to you?" He looked up at Jones.

Jones shrugged. "We have been having power cuts lately, so I suppose not. When the data becomes live again, where is Caffrey?"

Peter looked at the tracking data again. "He appears to be at 131 West 3rd Street, check it out, will you?"

Jones nodded and left to find their errant con man.

Peter waited for the tracking data. He wasn't unduly bothered, or was he?

Neal meanwhile, had arrived at the Blue Note Club and making sure he looked immaculate, went to find a certain Mr Lombardo.

The club was in full swing and it took Neal a good few minutes to find his target.

Lorenzo Lombardo was seated in the private area, surrounded by his minions. Neal went to walk past the bouncer who was guarding the entrance, but was stopped by a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Pass, please." The huge figure asked, in what Neal presumed passed for his polite voice.

Neal gave him his best smile. "I don't need one. Mr Lombardo will want to see me."

The bouncer tried once more.

"No pass no entry."

Neal continued smiling. "I've already told you, Mr Lombardo will want to see me."

The man mountain drew himself up into his menacing pose

"You don't hear too good. I said, no pass no entry!"

Neal looked around in a bored fashion and then said, "We could play this game all night, but what happens when you run out of vocabulary?"

The bouncer was unimpressed. Neal didn't see the huge fist until it was too late. He suddenly found himself seated on the floor nursing an aching jaw. The bouncer came at him again and grabbing his impeccable lapels, lifted him to his feet.

"You…" he started to say, but at that moment an elderly gentleman appeared behind him and stopped him before he did Neal any permanent damage.

"What is going on here, John?" The man asked with interest. Neal recognised him as Lombardo from an old photo that June had.

The bouncer still held Neal uncomfortably by the suit lapels and replied, "Sorry, Sir. I'm just removing this gate crasher."

Lombardo looked Neal up and down. He certainly didn't look like a typical gate crasher.

"What do you want, son?" He asked, taking a puff on a cigar, but his eyes never leaving Neal's face.

Neal struggled to look dignified, not an easy thing to achieve when you're hanging off a bouncer's fists, but he managed to say, "Mr Lombardo, I just need to speak to you. I think you'll regret it if you don't hear what I have to say."

Lombardo was intrigued.

"Okay, John. Let him down, I'll see what he wants and then you can - dispose of him."

The bouncer smiled and dropped Neal. "Very well, Sir."

Neal straightened his suit and tie then neatened his hair and followed Lombardo to his table.

"Make yourselves scarce!" Lombardo announced to the other people sitting at the table. No one argued, they all just got up, took their drinks and left.

Impressive, Neal thought. One false move here and he could see himself ending up being part of the new Water Street development.

Lombardo indicated for Neal to sit down.

"I am a very busy man, so state your business Mr…?

Neal ignored the question but took out the gun wrapped in the cloth and put it on the table.

"We have a mutual friend and apparently you believe that her late husband stole this from you." He kept direct eye contact with the gangster as he uncovered the gun with a magician's flair.

Lombardo was shocked at first, but then as the realisation set in, he gently stroked the gun with his index finger, a smile creeping along his thinning lips.

"There is no 'apparently' about it. Byron stole this from me and now June has returned it." He raised his eyes from the gun and gave Neal a less than friendly look.

Neal's pleasant demeanour changed as he said, "June knows nothing about me being here. I am the one who has returned it to you, and I think you would be very interested to know where I got it from."

Lombardo took another puff on his foul cigar. He deliberately blew the smoke in Neal's direction.

"Enlighten me." He said, trying to remain impassive but Neal could tell from his body language he was itching to know.

Neal continued to look him directly in the eye, not allowing the smoke to put him off.

"Let's just say next time you visit you good friend Johnny Carter, check his wall safe. The one in the second floor room hidden behind the upside down Haas, which I might add, is sacrilege. Get him to open it and you'll find a yellow flower in the place where I removed the gun."

Lombardo was more interested than he was letting on. He didn't speak for a while.

"Just who are you?" Lombardo asked at length. "Are you seriously expecting me to believe that you have been in Johnny's place and cracked his safe? I don't believe you. You better watch your mouth, kid."

Neal smiled slightly. "I told you, I'm a friend of June's. You've got what you want, so I don't want you to have any more contact with her - ever."

Lombardo's eyes narrowed. He wasn't used to people talking to him in that manner. Unfazed, Neal continued. "I know you value loyalty above all else and I can confirm here and now that Byron was loyal to you and fully accepted that after that card game, the Capone gun belonged to you. He didn't take it. You need to look closer to home."

Neal then stood up to leave. The bouncer flexed his knuckles, a sly grin distorting his features, but with a slight movement of his hand, Lombardo indicated to him to let Neal go. The bouncer was disappointed and had to hold himself back as Neal gave him a winning smile as he passed. Neal then strode out through the thronging crowds and even had time to appreciate the jazz music that was filling the club, before reaching the relative safety of the outside. He was incredibly relieved to be out in the fresh air, after all he was an art thief not a hit man, but he had to admit, he missed his old life.

Back in the club, Lombardo indicated to one of his men, who came over immediately.

"Joe, I want you to follow our sophisticated friend and find out who he is." The crime boss ordered.

The hit man nodded and left to follow Neal.


	10. Chapter 10

My thanks to all of you for your comments, and hope to keep you on board until the conclusion!

Neal drove quickly back through the vibrant New York streets feeling exhilarated. The heist of the gun had gone like clockwork and unless Mozzie or Sam had run into trouble, it had all been a resounding success. Neal had to admit that there was nothing quite like the adrenalin rush you get from a carefully planned and executed operation. Unfortunately, in his euphoric state Neal was unaware of the black Cadillac tailing him and as he approached June's house his attention was further distracted by the sight of Ken, June's driver, sitting on the wall. He parked the car and remembering at the last minute to lock it, walked over to the chauffeur. The black Cadillac pulled into the kerb a few yards away and cut the engine.

Ken had been with Byron and June for 30 years. He was 60 years of age and had a large physique which had meant he had doubled as June's minder on occasions. He had an easy going nature and was fiercely loyal to June and her friends; as Neal approached he stood up and looked around furtively.

"Hi, Ken, what are you doing sitting out here?" Neal enquired with just a hint of uneasiness beginning to surface.

"Mr Neal, Sir." Ken replied animatedly. "Miss June told me to come and fetch you in the car, but I knows you've taken it, but she said I was to wait here for your return and then come back inside with you and pretend I picked you up tonight. I don't know what's going on, but I do as Miss June tells me!" He looked at Neal expecting him to have some sort of answer, but he was to be disappointed.

Neal's apprehension was growing rapidly, but he wouldn't find the answer standing out here, so he thanked Ken and the two of them walked into the house. Deep in conversation, neither of the two men noticed the driver of the black Cadillac parked in the shadows, watching.

June was in the hall as they opened the door. She addressed the chauffeur first. "Thank you, Ken, you may retire for the night, now."

Ken nodded and said goodnight before taking his leave.

June then turned her attention to Neal. She wasn't smiling and he could sense the unease in her voice.

"Neal, Dear. You have visitors…"

Neal looked passed her, into the parlour and that's when he saw Peter. He gave June what he hoped was a reassuring smile and went over to the FBI man.

"Good evening, Peter. It's a bit late for a social call don't you think?" He smiled pleasantly, but on seeing Peter's sombre face, added, "This isn't a social call, is it?"

Peter didn't reply at first; he merely looked at the floor and then raised his eyes to look directly at Neal. He then asked in a tone that Neal knew all too well. "Where have you been this evening, Neal?"

Neal considered the reasoning behind this request with a million permutations, but his senses sharpened at Peter's tone; which ever way you looked at it, it wasn't good. Putting his hands in his pockets and adopting a non threatening pose, he replied.

"You can pull up my anklet data at any time, so why are you asking me, and why now?"

Peter rubbed his forehead with his forefinger and thumb and sighed. He'd known this was going to be difficult.

"I just want to hear it in your own words, where you've been this evening."

Neal started to shake his head as if to say '_here we go again_…' So Peter added. "Please, Neal."

Neal respected Peter's attempt at an olive branch so replied. "Alright, I went out about 10pm to meet a friend and then after a drink or two I went over to the Blue Note Club to listen to some jazz. Ken then picked me up and drove me back, and here I am. So, care to enlighten me?"

Peter absorbed the information and was pleased that most of it seemed to corroborate the data retrieved from the anklet, but there was still that half hour or so when it went off line.

"A friend you say, does this friend have a name?" Burke asked.

Neal gave Peter a 'you know better than to ask me that!' look and remained silent.

Peter nodded his understanding. "I see. Come to think of it, most of your 'friends' are known to the FBI anyway, so that question was a non- starter!"

Neal had to smile at Peter's cynicism. Peter continued.

"The thing is, your anklet went AWOL for half an hour earlier this evening and I need to fill in the gaps. The thought of you being off the radar for even a minute will have my superiors demanding some answers. Answers which at the moment I don't have!"

Neal was going to have to play this carefully if he wasn't going to arouse Peter's suspicions. He would never blatantly lie to him, ever. It was just a matter of twisting the truth a little. What Neal had done wasn't sinister exactly; he'd simply met a friend and then returned an article to its rightful owner, without his anklet being activated.

"Look, Peter. My anklet never uttered a sound and so I know I stayed within my 2 mile radius. What ever happened may be strange but I don't see why it's worth an interrogation!"

Peter wasn't entirely convinced. "May I see it?" He asked, but with an authoritative tone that brooked no argument.

Without uttering a word, Neal walked over to where Burke was standing and lifted up his left foot and rested it on a chair. He raised his trouser leg a little so that Peter could see the anklet. Sure enough, the green light was blinking away quite happily. Neal put his foot back down with a forceful movement.

"Am I under investigation?" He asked Peter directly, his voice showing his concern and displeasure in equal measures.

Before Peter could answer there was a noise upstairs and turning to look, Neal saw Jones coming down the stairs.

"Ah, Jones is here too, I see." Neal said beginning to get riled, but then following close behind there was another figure.

"And Dummo too." Neal added, turning back to Peter with an expression of sheer disbelief. "All we need now is Lauren and we can have a party!" Neal's body language betrayed the fact that he was getting seriously pissed off.

Agent Dhumo stopped halfway down the stairs and said. "Agent Burke, there's something you need to come and see." He looked directly at Neal with a look of pure satisfaction on his face.

Neal knew his rights and so asked Peter, "I presume you have a warrant?" But Peter was way ahead of him and waved the document in the air.

"Just checking." Neal acknowledged with resignation. He had a feeling Peter would play it by the book, he always did.

Peter walked up the stairs after Dhumo and then Jones invited Neal to follow, keeping himself at the rear.

Neal's room had been searched that much was obvious, but Neal couldn't fathom out what it was the FBI were looking for. He thanked whichever god was looking after him that day, for making him put the miniature in the oven because it looked like the kitchen had been overlooked. Jones stayed close to Neal as Dhumo lifted up a clear plastic evidence bag for Peter to see.

"We found this hidden in the bookcase and it would appear to be the DNA evidence that had been collected against Samson Mallory. It was found to be missing from the evidence files earlier today, so perhaps Caffrey would like to explain what it is doing amongst his books?"

Dhumo inclined his head as if to emphasise he required an answer from Neal.

Burke looked at the bag, and then back at Neal. Neal slightly raised his hands in a subconscious gesture of defence and when he spoke his words were directed solely at Peter.

"Oh come on! You can't seriously believe that I stole that?" His eyes were large and open, imploring Peter to believe him.

No-one said anything until Dhumo continued to twist the proverbial knife.

"Caffrey was in the office all day and had ample opportunity to lift this from records. It's clear to see he's assisting Mallory and by removing this evidence we would no longer have had any proof against him in the US. Where have you been tonight, Caffrey? Helping your friend Mallory to add to his collection?"

Neal turned to Dhumo and keeping his voice reasonably calm said, "I haven't been helping Mallory." _Not a lie, he was helping me. "_I simply went out for a drink and to listen to some jazz."

He turned to look at Jones and then Peter before adding with feeling, "Look, if I had taken that evidence, you sure as hell wouldn't have found it!"

Peter nodded to himself because he knew it was true what Neal was saying about the poor hiding place. A professional thief of Caffrey's calibre would never had been that slipshod, but the FBI man couldn't argue with the evidence as it was presented to him at this moment, so all he could say was, "Jones," and nod to his colleague.

Jones removed the cuffs from his belt and walked towards Neal, who simply stood there and looked incredulously at Burke.

"You've got to be kidding! You're arresting me?" His disbelief was obvious.

Peter held up his hand to silence Neal and replied, "I have no choice, Neal. The evidence found here, coupled with your anklet going quiet, gives me just cause."

Jones took hold of Neal's wrists and started to put the cuffs on. The con man didn't resist, but he never took his eyes off Peter, allowing his disillusionment to show.

Jones then read Neal his rights, but Neal wasn't listening, he was too busy trying to formulate a plan and besides, he knew the spiel off by heart anyhow. "Neal Caffrey, You are being arrested under suspicion of theft and aiding and abetting a known felon. You have the right to remain silent, but anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?"

Peter observed this scenario in silence, knowing in his gut that something here wasn't right. Neal looked directly over at him and replied with barely concealed disappointment, "Yes, Jones, I understand."

Dhumo, keen to hurry things along, appeared from behind and grabbed Neal's arm but not too gently and pulled him towards the door.

"Come on, let's go, Caffrey!" He almost snarled.

Neal's expression showed he had retreated into himself, blotting out the outside world and concentrating all his efforts on self preservation.

Peter followed last of all and saw June watching from her bedroom door, so he walked over and stopped to speak with her.

"It'll be alright, June. I won't let anything happen to him, I promise." He said in all honesty.

June nodded. "I hope you're right, Peter, because Neal trusts you. I trust you."

Peter was aware of that and promised that he would do all he could. He then went out to the car and sat in the driving seat. He looked in the rear view mirror and saw Neal seated calmly next to Jones, staring out into the night. This time though, he wasn't drawing pictures on the window, he was a prisoner. As the Agent's car pulled off, the black Cadillac waited for a few more moments before moving away quietly to report back.


	11. Chapter 11

Busy old week, nice to post another chapter…

Whilst Neal's night was slowly turning into a nightmare, Mozzie had safely made it back to his place and poured himself a large drink. That had been too close for comfort; he wasn't usually on the front line, he considered himself to be more of a backroom guy. He had agreed to meet Neal at June's so he finished his drink, safely stashed his suitcase and set off to meet his friend.

He knew that by now it was late, but he had a key so he let himself in and went quietly up to Neal's room. Once he had opened the door, he was a little perturbed to see Mallory seated at the table, in the dark.

"Mallory, it's been a while!" Mozzie said by way of a greeting, and as he spoke he turned on the light.

Mallory shielded his eyes from the sudden bright light and looked decidedly subdued, but answered, "Good to see you, Mozzie. You look well."

Mozzie entered the room cautiously and glanced around. "Where's Neal? He not back yet?"

Mallory sighed. "Oh yes, he's back alright. Back in jail."

Mozzies eyes grew larger. "Jail?" How he hated that word. "What do you mean, jail? What went wrong?"

Mallory finished his wine first before relaying the details as he saw them.

"Nothing went wrong, everything went according to plan!" Mozzie could sense that he had insulted Mallory's ego. "We did the job smoothly and whilst Neal took care of the gun, I set everything back to normal at Carter's place. I then had some time to kill, so I stopped for a few drinks before returning here to meet up with him. As I waited across the street, I saw three guys arrive who might just as well have had 'FBI' written all over them. I'm intrigued, so I climb up here and wait by the patio doors, just to keep an eye on things you understand. Neal then arrived about an hour later and comes up to this room, but he's under close scrutiny. Then this ugly guy, Dhumo I think it was, produces a bag of DNA evidence from behind a bookshelf, which in itself is laughable, I mean how cliché is that? Anyhow, apparently it's mine from an earlier crime scene but I can't for the life of me remember being so careless, but there you go…"

Mozzie was getting up tight again. "So what happened, Mallory?" He nearly shouted.

"I was coming to that. After the ugly guy produces this bag, he accuses Neal of stealing it from the FBI and also, you won't believe this, of helping me to steal something or other. Neal protested his innocence, but the one in charge ordered him arrested and off they went."

Mozzie looked crest fallen.

"Did he steal that evidence?" Mallory needed to know.

Mozzie shook his head. "No. He knew about it of course, but hoped you would be long gone so it wouldn't be necessary. This is a disaster! He'll go back to prison for at least 4 years, maybe longer, unless we can help him."

Mallory looked thoughtful. "This is going to be a tricky one. It looks like he's been set up, so we have to prove who did it and why. I have a feeling it's this Dhumo character, Neal told me the guy hates him."

Mozzie was getting upset. "I told Neal to be careful and I have never trusted the suit. How could he think that Neal would do something like that?"

Mallory smiled and gave him his '_because that's what Neal does?'_ look and said nothing.

Mozzie realised the stupidity of the comment and added. "Okay, okay, so he's stolen things in the past…"

Mallory raised his eyebrows.

"…And he may have forged a few things…" Mozzie said beginning to realise the hopelessness of his argument.

"A few?" Mallory had to laugh at that.

"Alright, a lot of things!" Mozzie couldn't defend Neal's record; he was just too good at what he did.

Mallory stood up and looked directly at Mozzie as he said, "He's also been involved in racketeering, embezzlement and numerous scams! The man is a menace to law enforcement and once you get a reputation like his, it's difficult to convince people otherwise. Mud sticks and whoever has done this hasn't had to work too hard because Neal is an easy target."

Mozzie was trying to get his head around all of this. "You're not going to run out on us, are you, Mallory?"

The big Englishman shook his head. "No worries there, Moz. I'm not leaving a friend. We'll sort this one way or another."

Back across town at the Blue Note Club, Lombardo's man had made a few phone calls and gathered the information his boss wanted and was now relaying the details to him.

"His real name is Neal Caffrey, but he has worked under a series of aliases. He was arrested four years ago for bond forgery and has only been out of prison for a few months. He has been linked to hundreds of frauds, scams, forgeries and it's incredible they only got him on the bonds. He's a highly talented forger and thief, and he's thought to be responsible for multiple thefts of expensive and rare artefacts, including the Gruhberg heist. When I was outside his place tonight, it looked like the Feds have got him."

Lombardo digested the information before laughing out loud, causing his employee to jump in surprise.

"I know that name, the infamous Neal Caffrey. Well if that's the case, I bet he really did manage to crack Carter's safe!" He chuckled for a while, but once the realisation set in, his eyes became dark and his manner became more menacing. "Joe, I think it's time we paid a visit to Johnny Carter. Go get the car."

Joe left at once. "Yes sir, Mr Lombardo."

The ride to FBI Headquarters for Neal was awkward to say the least. Peter didn't say a word, but Dhumo, never shut up. Neal was contemplating removing the handcuffs, which he could have done easily, but then what? Overpower Jones and throw himself out of a moving car? That idea died as quickly as it had been born, so he tried to block out Dhumo's ramblings and think of a more dignified way out of this.

They arrived at FBI headquarters and Jones gently took Neal's arm and escorted him inside. The familiarity of the annex made Neal feel uncomfortable because he wasn't there by choice. The four men stood awaiting the lifts arrival in silence. When it arrived, the four of them entered and Peter pushed the button for floor ten, but still no-one spoke. The White Collar Unit was on floor twenty one and Neal had often heard stories about 'floor ten' but he hadn't envisaged paying it a visit so soon and definitely not as a suspect. The doors slid open and Peter went out first and went up to a desk where a young Agent was seated.

"I have a suspect in for questioning, Neal Caffrey. I'll need a holding cell for tonight and interview room 6 for in the morning."

The Agent looked at Neal briefly and noted down Peter's request.

"That's fine, Agent Burke. Holding cell 2E is available. Shall I get someone to take him through?"

Peter shook his head. "No, I'll take him, Jones?" He held out his hand for the key.

Jones handed it over and Peter said. "Thanks, Jones. You can go now, and I'll see you in the morning."

Jones said his goodnight to Burke and also acknowledged Neal with a nod of his head before he left, but Dhumo remained.

"You can go too, Agent Dhumo. I'll take it from here." Peter ordered.

Dhumo wasn't happy at not having the pleasure of locking Caffrey up, but on seeing Peter's grim expression, he took the hint and left.

Peter took hold of Neal's arm and led him without resistance, through the office to the door at the back. Once through this door, there was a corridor and off this corridor were holding cells. They stopped by 2E and Neal turned to face Peter.

"This is getting to be a habit!" He remarked sarcastically as Peter removed the handcuffs and unlocked the cell door.

Peter agreed. "What is it now, three and nil? You're losing your touch!"

Neal subconsciously rubbed his wrists and entered the small confines of the holding cell.

"I like what you've done with the place!" He quipped, trying not to let his anxiety show.

Peter felt he had to say something.

"Look, Neal, I didn't have a choice. Once Dhumo found that evidence bag in your bookcase, I had to arrest you."

Neal sat down on the hard bed, his face frowning in disgust. He then looked up at Peter and said, "Maybe, but we both know I had nothing to do with taking that bag, Peter. Even you could have hidden it better than that!"

Peter accepted the back handed compliment. "Thanks, I think…"

Neal continued. "This is all Dhumo's doing. He made it clear from the start he believes I shouldn't be free and it sticks in his craw that I am working alongside the FBI."

Peter was inclined to agree; he sat down on the bunk next to Neal and was just as surprised at the hardness of the mattress, but sensibly didn't comment.

"If only I could fathom out what Dhumo's motive is. It seems a huge risk for an FBI Agent to take, just to incriminate you." Peter aired his thoughts.

Neither man spoke for a few moments, the seriousness of the situation affecting them both, but in different ways.

Neal was first to break the silence. "He's clever and knows my file almost as well as you do. I guess he's just not prepared to give me a break."

Peter had to smile at that. "Neal, you had your biggest break when you only got four years! We were pushing for ten, you know!" He gave Neal his best FBI look.

Neal was taken aback. "Seriously? You wanted to put me away for ten years?"

Peter nodded. "Considering your track record, yes! It was only because you had such a clever lawyer and possibly because you charmed the jury every time you were put on the stand, that you got off so lightly."

Neal was unimpressed. "You consider four years in maximum security, getting off lightly? Let's hope I never upset you in the future…"

Peter smiled and checked his watch. He realised he couldn't spend too much time in the holding cell so unfortunately it was time to leave, but he wanted to give Neal hope, so said, "We'll discuss it in the morning; I'll look into it, don't worry. If he has set you up, we'll get him!"

Neal gave him a look. "**If** he set me up? Thanks for the vote of confidence, Partner!"

Peter smiled. 'Partner.' He liked that. "Slip of the tongue, you know what I mean!"

Neal nodded half- heartedly. "Sure. On your way out can you ask room service to bring me my breakfast at 8am?"

Peter shook his head. Same old Caffrey.

"Good night, Neal, see you tomorrow." And with that, Peter closed the door and as the bolts locked into place, Neal felt the same feelings of isolation he'd experienced in prison. He removed his jacket and lay down on the extremely uncomfortable bed and tried to rest. Ten minutes later the door was unlocked and an FBI Agent entered carrying a blue, two piece prison style uniform.

"We need your clothes for forensics, so put these on please." He thrust the starched objects into Neal's hands and left. "I'll be back in five!" The FBI man announced over his retreating shoulder.

Neal looked at the items of clothing, at least they weren't orange – yet. He did as he was asked and put the clothes on. They had been starched so much he felt the material crack as he moved. The Agent returned as promised and much to Neal's chagrin crammed his expensive clothes into a small plastic bag, before leaving again. The lights were then turned off and Neal listened to the familiar sounds of the night in a prison cell as he tried to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

After the dramatic activities of the evening had finally settled down, Mozzie and Mallory found that they had little time for sleep, so instead they sat and talked into the small hours. They were determined to find a way to help Neal out of this mess and if they were brutally honest, it wouldn't do their situation any harm to formulate a sensible plan. Mozzie felt they needed to come up with something that would exonerate them all. June had earlier told the boys that they were welcome to stay that night in her home, so come the morning, it found them all having coffee on the patio discussing Neal's dilemma. They were focussing their attention on the facts of the frame up. The two men had deliberately kept the small details about the evening's earlier activities, especially the part involving the theft of the gun, to themselves. No point in worrying an already anxious June, Mallory had nobly suggested. Their little tête a tête was interrupted a short time later, when June's maid came to tell her she had a visitor in the parlour.

June looked surprised. "I wonder who that can be at this early hour?"

Mozzie was quick to judge. "I doubt that it's the suit, he wouldn't dare show his face here!"

June smiled gently at Moz. "Don't judge Peter too harshly, Mozzie. I've met a lot of men in my time and I know a decent man when I see one. I have no doubt in my mind that he'll help Neal."

Mozzie grunted and said something derogatory under his breath, but June had already left the table and started to go downstairs.

As she entered the parlour she stopped suddenly and took a sharp intake of breath at the sight of her visitor.

Like the Angel of Death, Lorenzo Lombardo rose up from the chair he'd been occupying and smiled at her.

"Good morning, June!" He said loudly, greeting her like a long lost friend.

June was not happy to have him in her house again and was definitely confused by his friendly demeanour. Her voice stammered, much to her annoyance, as she asked, "What do you want now, Lorenzo? You gave me a week to get it back and that week is not up yet!"

Lombardo held up his hand to silence her. "Do not worry, June. Last night I met a friend of yours who was very helpful to me. I now have my gun and I also have the truth."

It only took a moment for June to realise that somehow Neal must have managed to find and return the gun; was there nothing that boy couldn't do? She had to sit down as the possible consequences of Neal's actions took hold. Why oh why hadn't he listened to her?

Lombardo came over to her whilst Joe remained by the door, ever vigilant.

"I can see by your obvious surprise that you had no idea about this?" He prompted.

June gently shook her head, tears beginning to form. "He promised me he wouldn't get involved…!"

Lombardo nodded. "He told me you weren't aware of what he was doing. He's a very resourceful young man!" And after a short pause, he added almost under his breath. "I could use someone like him!"

At these words, June suddenly felt incredibly protective towards the young con man she'd only known for a few months. She sat up tall and said firmly, "You leave him alone, Lorenzo. He doesn't need your type of trouble; he's in enough of his own!"

Lombardo smiled genuinely at June. She never had been afraid to speak her mind; that was what Byron had found so attractive.

"He's in trouble? What sort of trouble?" He enquired with fake concern. If Neal Caffrey needed help, this could be turned to his advantage.

June considered telling some lie, but then decided there was no reason not to tell him.

"His acquaintances and I believe he has been set up by someone for theft of evidence and he could be put away for four years!"

Lombardo was genuinely confused at hearing this. "Four years for a measly theft? It hardly merits crime of the century!"

June gave him one of her looks. "You don't understand. He is on parole and he was only allowed out of prison on the understanding he works with the FBI, under their control. Any breach of his terms means he goes straight back to maximum security for at least four years. If found guilty, the Parole Board will have no choice but to return him to prison."

Lombardo looked thoughtful, feeling as if all his Christmas's had come at once. It would appear that Neal Caffrey, one of the best forgers, thieves and con men on the planet, needed help, and quickly. To make matters perfect, Caffrey was working for the FBI. Either way, he would be a real asset to his organisation. He decided to press June for details. "Set up, you say. Do you have any idea who might be responsible?"

June shook her head. "No I haven't, but his friends might, I'll fetch them."

She asked Marie to bring Mozzie and Mallory down to the parlour. They soon arrived but looking less than eager.

June did the introductions.

"Mozzie, Sam, I'd like you to meet Mr Lorenzo Lombardo from Chicago." Lorenzo inclined his head slightly, as did Sam in return. Mozzie on the other hand, just grimaced. June continued.

"He wants to know if you have any idea who would want to frame Neal."

Mozzie was very wary. Having read the background information on this man, he knew just how nasty he could be. Mallory, not knowing Lombardo's full history was less impressed, so he did most of the talking.

"I believe it's a Fed named Dhumo. He was the one who 'found' the evidence in Neal's room and I know he dislikes Neal enough to do this. He seems to bear a grudge for some reason and remember, this guy knows all the correct procedures to stitch Neal up tight. It's going to be tricky trying to prove Neal's innocence and I think I'm safe in assuming we won't be going down the 'confession from Dhumo' route, any time soon."

Mozzie nodded in agreement, but still didn't speak.

Lombardo smiled at the information, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He now understood; Neal Caffrey was vulnerable and ripe for picking.

"I'll tell you what I'll do." He began, smiling in a manner that belied the fact that his mind had already formulated a plan. Mozzie swallowed hard, hoping fervently that it didn't involve concrete foundations.

"I'll go and have a quiet word with this Mr Dhumo and see if I can 'persuade' him to do the right thing. I'm sure I can make him see sense..."

Mozzie and Mallory looked briefly at each other, sharing an 'Oh no!' moment.

Lombardo then stood up; the audience was at an end.

"I will now take my leave, but you will be hearing from me." He put on his hat as Joe went on ahead to open the door. June followed him and asked, "Lorenzo, when you saw Johnny Carter, what did he have to say about taking the gun?"

Lombardo stopped momentarily and turned to face her. "Let's just say he was sorry, saw the error of his ways and the affair was concluded to my satisfaction!" He then nodded to Joe and left.

Mozzie was sweating profusely and Mallory was intrigued by having met an actual mobster.

"That was – interesting!" Mallory offered unhelpfully, still staring at the door where Lombardo had just exited. He thought carefully for a short while, trying to make sense of what he had just heard.

"Unless I am very much mistaken," he said at last to a worried Mozzie, "I have a horrible feeling we now have a gangster on the team…"

Mozzie was circling the table, unable to sit still; the raw fear of having been so close to an actual gangster taking a while to dissipate.

Before Mozzie could add his own thoughts on the matter, June, who had earlier left the room to order more coffee, returned looking positively shell shocked.

Mozzie went up to her, his own fear momentarily forgotten. "June, what's the matter?"

June collected herself and looked at him with large eyes.

"I've just been talking to Ken, and he says that last night there was a homicide, here in New York."

Mozzie and Mallory were not that surprised at the news.

"New York has homicides most nights, June. What's so special about this one?" Mallory asked.

"No, you don't understand - it was Johnny Carter!" June announced in barely a whisper.

Mozzie and Mallory suddenly looked like 30,000 volts had just surged through them.

June sat down trying to digest this terrible news.

"Oh no!" Mozzie cried out, his paranoia starting to plan too far ahead as usual. "Lombardo must have killed him; we are connected to Lombardo, so now we are connected to a murder!"

Mallory, although stunned, kept his cool. "Lombardo said the matter of the gun was concluded to his satisfaction, he obviously wasn't satisfied with a good old fashioned 'sorry'!"

Mozzie was running on pure adrenalin by this point. "I knew this would turn out bad! This is Monte Carlo all over again!"

Mallory rolled his eyes. "Don't bring that up again, Moz. I know it was a close call, but Neal wasn't entirely to blame for that…"

Mozzie was having none of it.

"It's always a close call were Neal is concerned! I have lost count of the number of times I have nearly ended up on the wrong side of a cell door because of him! Look at the forged bonds. I warned him, I told him it was a trap, but oh no, he knew best and look where that got him!"

Mallory had a calming influence and managed to bring Mozzie back down to earth.

"Look Moz, you need to let Neal know the score, ok? This is getting seriously out of hand. We now have the mob involved, which won't exactly do Neal's case any good should the Feds find out. I can't go waltzing into a prison. Well, not unless I want to take up residency for a few years, so I'm afraid it's going to be up to you."

Mozzie's head drooped lower as this information filtered through.

June had regained her composure once more.

"Poor Johnny. He wasn't the nicest of men, but it shows what can happen when you cross Lombardo. Mozzie, you must let Neal know exactly what he is up against. He can't let the FBI have any idea that he knows Lorenzo, let alone that he had dealings with him. Please!"

Moz couldn't resist a tearful June and despite Neal's annoying habit of taking huge risks, he had to admit he was desperately loyal to the smooth criminal. He nodded resignedly, "Very well. I'll try and see him today, but it depends whether or not they transfer him from FBI Headquarters. I can't get to see him in there, so hopefully they'll either set him free - I know, unlikely - or send him to the Max. Either way, I'll make sure he knows as much as we do about what is going on."

June and Mallory realised how hard this would be for Mozzie, but they were a team, and you didn't leave anyone behind, whatever the personal risk.

I've had a job interview this week, so this has been a pleasant distraction. Fingers crossed on the job though!


	13. Chapter 13

Peter Burke could never sleep well when things were on his mind, and having to lock Neal up for the night constituted having something on his mind. Next day, he was in the office early talking to Hughes.

"Maximum security?" He announced in strident tones to his tolerant superior.

"You're having him transferred to maximum security? Why? Surely you can't believe he's guilty?"

Peter had an intense expression on his face as he tried to impart the depth of his feelings to Hughes. The FBI boss shrugged and then started to speak, but Peter cut across him as he continued on his rant.

"It's ridiculous to even suggest that a thief of Neal's calibre would make such an amateurish mistake!" He then thought for a short while, hands on his hips, before adding, "There is something very wrong about all of this. For heaven's sake we both know that Neal is one clever son of a bitch, so to believe he would do something as stupid as this is just plain crazy."

Hughes nodded at his top Agent in his annoyingly calm manner, before attempting to speak again.

"I hear what you're saying, Peter, and in part I agree, but the facts of the matter are that stolen evidence was found on his property and he was technically, for whatever reason, off our radar for half an hour! Until this is sorted out one way or the other, he has broken the terms of his parole and must go back to prison. We cannot hold him here and I have no other option but to have him transferred this morning."

Burke realised when the odds were stacked against him but had one more go at his boss.

"I have a bad feeling about this. Neal is a lot of things, but when it comes to his 'profession' he is the best. Just let me talk to him this morning…"

Hughes shook his head decisively.

"No, Peter. I don't want you involved with Caffrey at this stage. Let someone else take him in and you carry on with the Mallory case."

"But if I could only…" Peter gave Hughes his most appealing of looks but his boss wasn't playing ball.

"I said no, Peter." The older man's tone was firm.

After a short silence, in which Peter remained in the office, Hughes gave him a look that brooked no argument and said "Still here, Agent Burke? Don't you have a case to deal with?"

Peter had no choice, so he acknowledged his boss as he left. "Yes, Sir, thank you."

Meanwhile down in the holding cells, Neal's night had been pretty abysmal. He had only managed a couple of hours of fitful sleep and now all he wanted to do was to speak to Peter, get this cleared up and get back to normal as soon as possible.

Lying on the bunk, he looked up in anticipation as the key turned in the lock but this soon turned to dismay when he saw it was a warder from the maximum security prison. To make matters worse, he knew the man.

"Hey, Caffrey! Fancy meeting you again!" The warder announced in friendly tones.

Neal moved to a sitting position and gave a confused smile.

"Hi, Martin, I was about to say the same thing! What brings you here?"

Before the warder could reply, Neal's dismay plummeted several levels lower into despair, when Agent Dhumo appeared at the door. His manner was arrogant and dismissive as he addressed the warder.

"Cut the chatter. Just get him cuffed up so we can get out of here!"

The warder acknowledged the Agent's order with a sad shake of his head and walked over to Neal and expertly attached the cuffs to his wrists and ankles. Neal had always been quick on the uptake but it didn't take a genius to realise that this wasn't a good thing.

"What's going on, Dummo? I'm supposed to be seeing Peter this morning." Neal asked with more than a little concern.

The large Agent gave a snort. "Change of plan, Caffrey. You've broken your parole, so it's back to where you rightfully belong, behind high security bars!"

Neal's features tightened as he realised this situation had definitely reached the serious stage.

The warder tried to lighten the mood. "Hey, Caffrey, I think they've got your old cell free and Blanco is still next door, you remember him, don't you?"

Although he knew the warder was only trying to help, the look Neal gave him was one of pure derision.

"Great. Thanks, Martin. And here I was worrying…"

Dhumo, never one for small talk, announced sharply that it was time to go.

Thankfully for Neal, there was a back entrance down to the waiting prison van, so he didn't have the indignity of walking past people he knew. Once safely inside he was shackled to the floor of the van and the journey to jail began.

Peter had gone back to his office and just sat there deep in thought. Agent Cruz knocked on the door.

"You ok, boss?" She asked out of concern.

Peter looked up and upon seeing her replied, "Lauren, you're a friend of Liz from records, aren't you?"

Lauren looked surprised at such a strange question, but answered in the affirmative.

"I want you to do me a favour. Would you ask Liz, off the record for now, what Caffrey and she where discussing last the night?"

Lauren nodded. "Sure. You think this will help Neal?"

Peter looked at her, lines of concern furrowing his brow. "I'm not sure, but I need to start finding out what the hell is going on, and fast!"

Agent Cruz agreed. Although Neal Caffrey drove her mad at times, she knew in her heart that he hadn't done this, even he wasn't that stupid.

Once Cruz had gone, Burke started to formulate a plan. He knew he must speak to Neal but that wouldn't be possible just yet, so he rang the Marshal's office to speak to them. All they could tell him was yes, there had been a problem with the power that had been corrected and no, they weren't suspicious about it. They also added that there were several tracking anklets that they couldn't monitor for half an hour, not just Neal's. That made Peter feel a lot better, at least it wasn't just Neal's data that had gone missing. His deliberations were suddenly interrupted by the arrival of the details surrounding last night's homicide. He wasn't on the case, but news spread fast around the office and some of the Agents were talking. Peter didn't usually listen to hearsay, but it was clear that a couple of the older guys had heard about a safe being cracked and were making thinly veiled accusations against Neal.

Across town Neal, Dhumo and Martin had arrived at the prison. Having been a recent inmate, Neal was processed fairly quickly and now, resplendent in orange he was escorted up to his old cell as Martin had stated.

Dhumo watched with unconcealed delight as Martin bolted the door shut and then left.

Neal stood looking through the bars at the Agent and refused to be intimidated.

"You don't honestly believe you'll get away with this, do you Dummo?" He said in a controlled voice.

Dhumo was uncharacteristically upbeat. He swept his arm around to indicate the vastness of the jail.

"Look around you, Caffrey. It would appear that I have!" He then moved closer to the bars and said with relish, "I always hoped we'd meet again, and I couldn't believe my luck when Hughes requested me on secondment. Burke's team worked for three years to catch you and in the end you were only convicted for Bond forgery! It just proves what a failed system we have when everyone knows you have been responsible for hundreds of crimes…"

Neal put his hand up slightly to interrupt. "Alleged crimes…"

Dhumo continued, not allowing Neal's remark to throw him off track. "Four years inside was not enough for someone like you, so here I am to make amends. The theft of the evidence is just for starters, and now I'm going to let you in on a little secret…"

Neal kept his cool, kicking himself for seriously underestimating this guy.

"I'm listening." Neal didn't antagonise the Agent because he wanted to know what he was up against.

"Last night there was a homicide and as luck would have it, it was on the corner of Madison and East 79th Street."

Neal looked impassive, not allowing any sign of recognition to show on his face, even though the news hit him like a subway train.

"So what?" He asked, totally deadpan.

"The data from your anklet puts you only two blocks away around the alleged time of the murder, and guess what the CSI guys are going to find when they work the scene?"

Neal's piercing blue eye just glared at him, realising were this was going.

"No? Can't you guess? Well, I'll show you." And he held up a few strands of hair.

"I acquired these from your room whilst planting the evidence bag, and I also have some finger prints. I never thought that I could pin a murder on you too, what serendipity!"

Neal tensed all over. He had been set up big time.

"You're psychotic, Dhumo, you need help." He commented grimly, knowing full well his words were wasted on this man.

"No, Caffrey. I am a good Agent who is tired of criminals walking free because of clever lawyers and their legal technicalities. If the system is flawed then I'll play it their way!"

Neal knew he couldn't appeal to this man's better nature because he didn't have one.

Dhumo continued, "I'll come and see you again, and let you know how things are progressing, but look at it this way. The good news for you is that the state of New York no longer has the death penalty! It's a pity really, because I would like to have been a witness to you receiving 2000 volts!"

Neal had to summon up all his powers of self control to prevent himself from letting Dhumo see how badly he had got to him.

"I've got to go now, but think on that for a while. I have a feeling this place is going to be your home for a long time to come!" He then walked away, leaving a very disillusioned Neal Caffrey behind him, for once at a loss for words.

Burke was still in his office when Lauren appeared at his door.

"I've brought you a coffee, boss. You got a minute?"

Peter smiled for the first time that morning.

"If you keep bringing me coffee, I'll give you as long as you need!"

Lauren handed him the cup and sat down.

"I've been talking to Liz about her conversation and she is adamant that all Neal wanted to know was who was playing at the Blue Note Club last night. Liz is a big jazz fan and she and Neal often compare notes, pardon the pun. When Neal heard it was Kurt Elling…" Peter looked at her with his 'who?' expression.

"Yeah, I've never heard of him either, but Neal was impressed and told Liz he was going along."

Peter digested this information. This was good because it proved Neal's explanation was coming together.

"Thanks, Lauren. I have to go out now, so you and Jones keep me posted."

"Okay, boss. Where are you off to?"

Peter smiled grimly. "Somewhere I shouldn't be going, so if Hughes asks, I'm doing something about the Mallory case."

Lauren understood. "No problem, say hi to Neal for me!"

Peter smiled knowingly at her and then left to go to the prison.

Peter was escorted into the visiting room which was at this time of day was empty. He waited patiently whilst they fetched Neal and remembered the last time he'd been here at Caffrey's own request, a few months ago. Neal had some grand idea that he could help the FBI catch a criminal known as 'The Dutchman,' in return for his freedom. Peter had only needed to think about it for a short while before making up his mind. After all, Neal had served the four years he was originally convicted for and what Neal had brought to the team was priceless. His knowledge, expertise and down right charisma, had returned great results and won most people over; Peter was not going to let this partnership slip away without a fight.

The large metal door slid open with an ominous hiss and once he'd been frisked by a huge guard, Neal was allowed in to see Burke.

"Hi, Neal, how are you doing?" Peter knew it was a stupid question but he was trying to remain upbeat.

Neal looked in pretty good shape considering the situation he was in and he looked earnestly at Burke as he replied, "I'm back in prison. They've given me my old cell back; I've now got a cd player instead of a tape machine…"

Peter had to hide a smile at that, since it had been his suggestion when Neal had escaped last time.

"And I still get to have Blanco as my neighbour, so what do you think?"

"Good, good." Peter nodded, letting Neal's sarcasm hang in the air. "Did you sleep ok?"

"No, I didn't. Did you?"

"Like a log. Come and sit down."

Neal wandered over looking peeved at Burke's remark and sat down on the long bench.

Neal folded his arms on the table top and asked Burke directly, "When am I getting out of here, Peter?"

Peter gave him a disbelieving look. "Oh, didn't you get the memo? There is a small matter of stolen evidence turning up in your apartment, to clear up first!"

Neal almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation and the smile broke through onto his lips.

Peter wasn't impressed. "So, you find this amusing? Perhaps you'd like to enlighten me as to how the evidence bag ended up in your bookcase?"

Neal's smile disappeared quickly and he shook his head in frustration.

"The same way my DNA will be found at that murder scene from last night!"

Burke flinched as Neal's words hit home.

"Neal, how did you hear about that? You didn't… tell me you didn't…" He demanded.

Neal's expression was priceless.

"Come on, Peter! Use your head! It's me we're talking about, not Bugsy Siegel!"

Burke realised that for one fleeting moment he'd actually joined the ranks of idiots.

"Alright, alright!" He corrected. "What I meant to say was **why** will your DNA be found at a murder scene?"

"That's more like it. I told you that Dummo doesn't like me, didn't I?"

Peter nodded. "I'm glad you pointed that out, I never would have guessed…"

Neal gave him a sarcastic look and continued undaunted. "Well, it would appear that he doesn't approve of anyone who he believes is guilty, walking free."

Peter listened, beginning to get the gist as Neal continued.

"Dhumo actually told me how he had planted the evidence in my apartment and how he also intended to frame me for last night's murder."

"Nice! He's a real charmer!" Burke then looked pensive. "When was this? When did he say all of this?"

Neal sat back on the bench. "When I first arrived here this morning and no, before you ask, no one else heard."

Burke sighed in frustration. "Damn it, Neal we need hard evidence, not just your word!"

Neal looked slightly perturbed. "My apologies, I was too busy being framed for murder to make notes!"

Peter raised his hand. "I'm sorry, Neal. I just need to get the facts straight so we can nail this guy. I'll contact Jones to see if he can chaperone Dhumo at the crime scene to prevent him falsifying evidence."

Neal leant forward, the frustration beginning to take hold. "You're probably already too late. He has a couple hours head start on you. Peter, he knows all the correct procedures to get me convicted and not to mention he's also a physcho into the bargain!"

Peter actually smiled. "But he isn't aware that I know any of this. Only Jones and Lauren know that I have been to see you, so in his mind his secret is still safe. I need to get back and get this sorted before it really gets serious."

Neal gave him a questioning look. "Gets serious? I'm in prison looking at a life sentence and you think it can get MORE serious?"

"Look, Neal, I appreciate your concerns but trust me, please."

Neal held Burke's gaze for a short time before replying.

"Alright, Peter, but don't leave it too long, eh? Blanco likes singing to ABBA – very badly!"

Peter winced. "Ouch! That's inhuman!"

Neal nodded with mock sincerity. As Peter stood up to leave, the guard came and stood by Neal to escort him back to his cell. Peter hated to see Neal led away; he could really use him to catch Dhumo, if only there was a way to get him out – legally, of course.

Back at Headquarters, Peter asked the whereabouts of Agent Dhumo.

Agent Bronski looked up from his computer screen and finished swallowing the remains of his beef and pickle sandwich.

"He's just left to attend last night's homicide over on Madison. It couldn't be more that 10 minutes ago!"

Burke's eyebrows furrowed as he called to Jones.

"Get over there and watch him like a hawk!" He hissed. "If I'm correct, he's planting evidence against Caffrey. Don't let on you suspect him, but don't let him be alone at any time, you got that?"

"No problem!" Jones replied with his usual 'ask no questions' look. "I fancied a trip across town and I always like to keep close to my FBI buddies!"

Burke smiled and returned to his deliberations. Somehow, he would get this man; he owed it to Neal.

Thanks for comments, please review if you feel like it! Good week for me, I got the job! Thanks costley51 for good wishes. This chapter is longer because I was in a very good mood!


	14. Chapter 14

Visiting time at the Max had always been a bitter sweet ordeal for Neal. During his last period of incarceration, he had only ever had one visitor, and that had been Kate. Although he was always thrilled to see her, it also broke his heart to be so close to the woman he loved, but be unable to touch her. He was therefore intrigued to be brought down to the cubicles where friends and family were allowed access. It obviously wasn't Peter, and he hoped fervently that it wasn't Dhumo again and so as he entered the room he was completely taken aback when he saw a figure who resembled Mozzie, sitting on the other side of the glass. As was the procedure in a Maximum Security prison, Neal had been cuffed and so he waited patiently whilst they were removed, before approaching the chair and sitting down. That simple movement caused the figure to jump in alarm. Neal picked up the telephone intercom on his side of the glass partition and indicated for Moz to do the same. Mozzie held the handset shakily to his ear.

"Hey, Moz, calm down! I'm the one stuck in here, remember?" Neal chided before adding, "And what's with the bad disguise? You look like Groucho Marx!"

Mozzie looked indignant and stage whispered back, "I am inside a prison, Neal! I couldn't just walk in looking like 'me', could I? Besides, this is the same disguise I used when you, Kate and I pulled off that police scam!"

Neal nodded as the memory resurfaced. "Yes, I remember. It didn't look convincing then, either. Didn't they dub us the 'Groucho Gang', or something?"

Mozzie ignored the jibe and glanced around the room like a spy from a Victorian melodrama. Once he was satisfied the guards weren't close, he spoke in barely a whisper.

"Neal, we are in big trouble!"

Neal's eyes grew wider in disbelief.

"You don't say? And what's with this 'We?' I appear to be the only one wearing the Day-Glo suit."

Mozzie continued in his covert manner.

"You don't understand. When I say 'We' I mean you, me and Mallory."

"Moz, get to the point, please…"

Mozzie realised he wasn't making any sense.

"I'm sorry, Neal, but it's not that simple. You've heard about the homicide last night I presume?"

Neal nodded his affirmation. "Dhumo happened to mention something about it…"

"Well, after you met with Lombardo and gave him the gun, he decided to go and pay Carter a visit and let's just say it ended up with Carter paying his debt to Lombardo in full - finito."

Neal lowered his head slightly as his initial theory upon hearing the news from Dhumo, was confirmed. This was not good, not good at all.

"So you see you, me and Mallory are directly connected to a killer! If the suit ever finds out we had dealings with Lombardo, he'll connect us to the murder and I don't think I can take any more of this!"

Mozzie was getting seriously anxious and Neal, ever the pro, took control.

"Look, Moz, focus. Tell Mallory to get the hell out of New York, now. Tell him to take the painting and high tail it back to London ASAP. With him gone, at least it reduces the odds of us being implemented in anything."

Moz agreed. "He won't like it. He said he wouldn't leave with you still in prison."

Neal knew Mallory wouldn't desert him, but it was too risky to have him around.

"Convince him, Moz. It will be easier just concentrating on ourselves. Tell him I'll be in touch."

Mozzie nodded. "OK, I'll make sure he goes." He then looked around once more before leaning in closer to Neal. "There's one more thing…"

Neal had reverted back to the neutral look on his face that masked his feelings so well. He didn't need to speak; he merely raised an eyebrow and waited for Moz to continue.

"Lombardo paid June a visit…"

That caused Neal's perfect mask to slip and annoyance took hold. "I warned him to stay away from her!"

Moz just looked at Neal sarcastically and replied, "Oh, well, sorry to say it, Neal, but your big, scary warning obviously wasn't big and scary enough to faze a Chicago gangster! The point is, if you'd let me finish, Lombardo is grateful to you for giving him Carter, so he is going to 'have a word' with Dhumo on your behalf!"

Neal's world was gradually imploding. It was just his luck to have a mobster doing him a favour because he was 'grateful.' Neal's razor sharp mind was beginning to get a little blunted, but he appreciated the fact that Mozzie had actually walked into a Federal prison of his own volition, even if he was wearing a ridiculous disguise, to keep him updated so said, "Thanks, Moz. Anything else you'd care to share with me, like I'm being transferred to Alcatraz perhaps?"

Mozzie shook his head. "Not today, strong winds across the Bay! No, I think that's about it, Neal. I'd better get going and get Mallory on his way, I'll be back soon."

Neal managed a wan smile.

"OK, Moz. Thanks for coming and keep your ears and eyes open!"

Moz nodded and then exited like a frightened rabbit. Neal was escorted back to his cell thinking logically what to do next. If Dhumo had managed to plant evidence at the scene, there would be no way out. On the other hand, if Peter found out he had cracked a safe and stolen a gun, not to mention the dealings he'd had with Lombardo, there would be no way out. It was a catch 22 situation. Neal was used to short odds and usually enjoyed the thrill that accompanied them, but on this occasion he felt that lady luck was dating Dhumo.

Over at the crime scene, Jones had arrived quickly and after asking a couple of uniforms his whereabouts, finally located Dhumo.

"Hi, man!" He announced breezily, causing Dhumo's scowl to grow deeper. "Agent Burke sent me along to lend a hand!"

Dhumo tried his best to hide his anger and failing miserably, came over to where Jones was standing.

"We seem to be up to speed here thanks." He said through gritted teeth. "No need for Agent Burke to waste resources, I'm sure there are a hundred other things you could be doing!"

Jones smiled pointedly at him and replied, "No, there aren't!"

Dhumo had to accept he wasn't going to shake off Jones and so turned away to carry on with what he was doing. Framing Neal, if Agent Burke was correct Jones thought to himself. He then proceeded to stick with Dhumo like a shadow for the rest of the time that the large Agent remained at the crime scene.

Meanwhile, over on the other side of town, a very smartly dressed man was entering the Headquarters of the FBI. He calmly read the information board in the foyer and entering the lift, he selected floor twenty one. The doors drew open and he stepped into the offices of the White Collar Unit. He walked up to the first person he saw sitting at a desk and flashing an ID, asked about the whereabouts of one Agent Dhumo. The young man at the desk checked with a colleague before replying, "He's out at a crime scene, Agent Wilkins. The homicide from last night, the one at East 79th and Madison!"

The visitor nodded his understanding and saying his thanks, left as quietly as he'd arrived.

Upon leaving the building, he walked quickly across the road to a waiting car and got into the driving seat. He looked into the rear view mirror and secured eye contact with the passenger seated in the back.

"Your suspicions were correct, Mr Lombardo." He said earnestly. "Dhumo is at the crime scene right now, what do you want me to do?"

The man in the back nodded silently. He didn't reply at first as he was gathering his thoughts, but after a short time he said, "I think we should go and speak to the gentleman, Joe."

"Yes, Sir," the driver replied and putting the car into drive, pulled away from the kerb.

Up in his office, Agent Burke was thinking earnestly how to prevent Dhumo from putting Neal away for life and was pleased that a least he had made a start by putting Jones on to him. Burke was all too aware of Dhumo's hatred for Neal but he feared he would find another way to frame him, so he had to think of something and fast. He decided to go over to the crime scene himself and picking up his jacket hurried on down to his car.

Jones was beginning to enjoy getting Dhumo all riled, and had been successful in not letting the Agent out of his sight for a second. He made sure that everything Dhumo did was by the book, and no false evidence was being planted. He was even more delighted when Burke showed up to check progress and he was able to put his boss's mind at rest that so far at least, Neal's DNA wasn't going to be found at the scene. Burke acknowledged this fact as he had a look around and noticed that something – or someone - was missing.

"Where is Dhumo by the way?" He asked Jones, whose grin suddenly disappeared.

"He was here a minute ago, I was talking to him!" The Agent looked around, desperately trying to find the rogue FBI man.

"Well, Elliott Ness, it would appear that you have lost him!" Burke fumed.

Jones hovered for a split second and then broke away from Burke's intense stare to try and find Dhumo.

Burke sighed inwardly as he walked around the rooms before looking absently out of the window into the street. It was there that he saw a man who resembled Dhumo, talking to a man near a dark stretch Cadillac. From his observations Dhumo appeared to be arguing and turning away to leave, but then the man seemed to convince him to get into the car. Burke rushed immediately down the stairs and into the street but he was only in time to see the car speeding away. He tried to get the license plate but the car was already too far away to get it all.

"Damn it!" He shouted out loud and then noticed a CSI standing nearby. "Hey! Who was that guy with Dhumo?" He demanded.

The man shrugged. "No idea." He replied with barely a glance at Burke.

Burke was in no mood for games. He charged over to where the man was standing and stood inches from him as he spoke, just about keeping a lid on his temper.

"This is very important. Have you any idea who or what is in that car, or where it's going?"

The man realised the urgency of the request and so answered quickly.

"It sounded like an Agent Wilkins wanted to take Dhumo back to Headquarters to assist in summat. That's all I heard." The man looked worried by Burke's attitude.

Burke acknowledged the information and ran to find Jones.

Jones was a little perturbed to have his boss running at him and fearing a rollicking said, "I know he was here, I only took my eyes off him for a second when you arrived…"

Burke waved away his excuses.

"Something is not right here, Jones. I just saw Dhumo get into a car which drove off at high speed."

Jones looked blank, so Burke carried on.

"The driver claimed to be an Agent Wilkins of the FBI but I know for a fact we have no-one of that name at Headquarters at the moment and we sure as hell don't drive flashy Cadillacs!"

Jones was pleased to be off the hook for the moment, but like his boss, he was perturbed by this news.

"Who would it be? Dhumo isn't on any other case and he sure as hell doesn't have any friends here."

Burke had to agree. "I need to find that Cadillac but I only have three digits from the licence plate. See if you get anything from this." He handed Jones a scrap of paper.

Jones understood Burke's urgency and the two of them headed off back to the office.

During this time, back across town, Mozzie had left the prison and headed straight back to June's place where Mallory was staying. As Mozzie entered the room, the Englishman was on his feet in an instant and asked. "Well? How'd it go?"

Mozzie looked serious. "You're not going to like this, but Neal wants you outta here and fast!"

Mallory's jaw became tense.

"He should know better than to ask me that!" He replied stony faced.

Moz relaxed his tone. "Look, Mallory. Neal is in big trouble here, but with luck and a gangster's intervention it will go one of two ways. Neal will either be released, or we will all end up in the slammer until we draw our pensions. Neal doesn't want any loose ends getting in the way, so please, if you are his friend, get back to the UK and take that painting with you, now!"

Mallory actually smiled.

"Okay, little man, I hear you, but I you can tell Neal I am not happy about it! I'll leave, but I want to know when he get's out, because if I know Neal he will get out, one way or the other!"

Mozzie nodded with satisfaction; at least that was the loose end tied up, only a mountain of trouble to sort out now…

Thanks for comments, it really helps the thought processes. I guess 4 more chapters to go…


	15. Chapter 15

The hectic day was fast fading into evening and the good people of New York were hurrying about their business. After a hard days work they were rushing home to friends and loved ones and making plans for the night ahead. Neal, on the other hand, did not have that luxury. He found himself trapped once more inside the all too familiar surroundings of a State Penitentiary cell. For a short period of time the jail had been reasonably quiet, due to the inmates having their evening meal at different sittings, but now that his neighbour had returned, he was finding it really hard to concentrate. Blanco was plugged into his headphones and for the past hour he had been singing tunelessly to Abba, out loud. It wouldn't have been too bad if the guy could sing, but couple that with him not knowing the correct words and it made life very miserable for the inmates in nearby cells. For a fleeting second, Neal almost wished he still had Al Capone's gun so that he could put Blanco out of his misery, but he shook himself back to reality and decided that ignoring the guy was the safest option. He paced slowly around the tiny room like a caged panther, occasionally stopping to place both palms against the wall and dropping his head as he tried to blot out the fact that this small, featureless place could well be his world for the next twenty years. Despairing thoughts came and went, coupled with anger which ebbed and flowed in a ceaseless repetition, until he finally stopped pacing and lay down on his bunk. He tried to make sense of the last few days, but no matter how many ways he tried to analyse it, Dhumo had got the better of him. Neal's pride had taken one hell of a battering, but if there were any positives to be had from being locked away in prison, it was that he been given time to think clearly. Neal Caffrey was used to difficult situations and now he was refreshed and up for the challenge; it was time for Peter and him to turn the tables.

Bobby, one of the nicer guards, came to Neal's cell and started to unlock the door, with a loud jangling of keys. Neal sat up and asked him only half jokingly, "What's up, Bobby? What have I done now?"

The guard, who liked and respected Neal, smiled and replied, "You're ok, Neal. You have a visitor, waiting in the reception room."

Peter, it must be! Neal's mood went up a couple of notches. The reception room wasn't used by family members or the public, only law enforcement officers or lawyers. Neal couldn't help feeling optimistic as he walked down to the reception room, but as the iron door slid back his smile faded, to be replaced by a look of consternation. It wasn't Peter sitting at the table; it was Lombardo; all serene and composed with the ever faithful Joe standing a short way behind. Neal checked himself and walked with what he hoped was confidence, over to the table and sat down opposite the man who if he had to be honest, both intrigued and scared him in equal measures.

"Mr Caffrey!" Lombardo began. "I am Agent Curtis and this is my colleague, Agent Wilkins of the FBI."

Joe surreptitiously inclined his head in a 'play along or else' gesture and Neal nodded his understanding, knowing full well he had no choice but to oblige.

Once Neal was seated, the guard in charge said, "He's all yours!" to the bogus FBI Agents and moved away to stand in the far corner, out of the way.

Lombardo leaned in closer and opened the conversation.

"You may remember a certain Mr Dhumo…?"

Neal gave him an intense stare and replied firmly. "Of course, how could I forget? He's the reason I'm in here, remember!"

Lombardo reacted slightly at Neal's curt manner, but let it pass on this occasion. He regarded Neal with slight irritation before continuing.

"We have been having a 'little chat' with him about his unfortunate behaviour and he is in the car, as we speak, thinking over his options." His voice rasped like a rusty iron hinge.

Neal considered this comment for a few seconds as he scanned the two faces in front of him.

"You've got him locked in the trunk, haven't you?" he quickly concluded.

Joe piped up. "It's very roomy, with air and all…"

Neal gave the hit man a slight grimace. "I'm sure…" And then he switched his gaze back to Lombardo who was sitting there in total control. The rasping voice continued.

"I am sure we can _persuade _him to do the right thing and then, once he has told the FBI about his clumsy attempt to frame you, his statement should be sufficient to secure your release from this establishment."

Neal sat still and kept quiet, but he was keenly observing the gangster's body language. He was very skilled at reading people and his senses were telling him that this man had an ulterior motive; he was after something.

Lombardo smile, but with the charm of a rattle snake.

"I must say, Mr Caffrey, I am a bit surprised that you of all people should allow yourself to be trapped like this in the first place. A bit careless, shall we say, I would have expected more."

Neal smiled back with equal venom.

"I also am surprised that a close friend of yours could steal and lie to you for over forty years without you suspecting a thing, even though it was suggested to you at the time!" He held the gangster's gaze, finally forcing him to lower his eyes.

Touché. Lombardo laughed gently, but Neal knew he had touched a nerve.

"I have been told you are a clever man, Mr Caffrey, but let's just hope for your sake, you don't get too clever, eh?" He shifted his position in the chair so that he was nearer to Neal, ensuring the guard didn't overhear what he was to say next.

"I have been having a little discussion with some of my – colleagues - about you, Mr Caffrey." The man had come so close that Neal could feel the heat of his breath on his face. He kept still and attentive but had a gut feeling he wasn't going to like what he heard.

"They were impressed, as was I, with your swift and skilful recovery of the gun from the late Mr Carter. They have also read through the information Joe here has collected about your very colourful career, and we feel we could use a man like you." Neal looked up at Joe and used the opportunity to move slightly away from Lombaro. Joe smiled back at him with obvious pride. Neal wasn't interested in this ridiculous proposition and let the gangster know in no uncertain terms.

"Forget it, Lombardo. I am a free agent who was just doing a favour for a friend!"

The mobster didn't reply at first, he just nodded his understanding of Neal's negative reply. When he did finally speak, it was with a quiet malevolence that took Neal by surprise.

"Listen to what I am about to say and listen good. You appear to misunderstand me. I don't do favours in my line of business, so this is not a choice I am offering you. You owe us for securing your imminent release; we own you now, heart and soul, so get used to the idea!"

Neal didn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

"We will be in touch once you are released and I warn you, if you try anything stupid like going to your FBI friend - Peter Burke isn't it? You will see him, his pretty wife, hey, even his dog, end up as part of the foundations for the new Freedom Tower!"

"How very patriotic of you!" Neal replied grimly as he clenched his fists under the table so hard, his knuckles turned white. Lombardo then stood up.

"I can see that we now understand each other. I look forward to seeing you again soon, Mr Caffrey!"

Neal was left in no doubt that some how, he was now working for the mob. Lombardo nodded to Joe who followed in his wake as the guard let them out. Neal was left feeling numb. Why hadn't he listened to June in the first place and just kept out of it? '_Because you're Neal Caffrey!_' He could hear Moz and Peter saying. Bobby then appeared at his side.

"Come on, Neal. It's time to get you back to your cell."

Neal obediently followed the large guard and started back to the cells. He needed to talk to Peter and soon. He knew first hand how tenacious the FBI man could be; three years being pursued by him was proof enough, so he hoped that Peter would run true to form.

The next morning Peter returned to work feeling angry. Upon entering the office, Jones came up to him with a broad smile.

"You're gonna love this!" He announced brightly, leading Peter over to Lauren's computer terminal.

Peter was tired and needed coffee so said irritably, "Please tell me that you've found Dhumo and he's confessed all?"

Cruz shook her head. "Uh huh, but it's nearly as good. Jones asked me to run those digits from the licence plate through the records and it came up with thousands."

Peter groaned. "Hang fire, I need coffee!" He left for a couple of minutes to fill his mug. Upon returning, he nodded at Lauren. "Carry on, make my day."

She continued. "I cross referenced it with older Cadillac's and that brought the number down to a couple of thousand…"

Peter took another drink of coffee, listening intently.

"Jones then referenced it again with the up market 1985 stretched model like you said you thought it was and it only returned fifty. Five are in California, thirty are used by various funeral homes, two have been written off which leaves us with thirteen."

For the first time that morning, a smile began to spread across Burke's face.

"That is excellent work, you two. What is the breakdown of those vehicles, do we know?"

Cruz tapped a few more keys.

"It would appear eight are registered in New York which are possibles, two are from Georgia and three are from Chicago, I…"

Peter suddenly had an epiphany.

"Did you say Chicago?"

"Yeah," Lauren confirmed. "But eight are from New York, so surely that's our starting point?" She looked round a little confused; Burke was off again on one of his hunches.

"Not necessarily!" Burke went over to his desk and after a quick search, brought back a file. He opened it to show the two Agents.

"This is the Crime Scene report and Autopsy report. It states that in all likelihood it was the victim himself who had opened the safe, so that blows the robbery theory, and in the professional opinion of the coroner, the shooting bore all the hallmarks of a mob execution."

Cruz and Jones exchanged glances. They were beginning to understand.

Lauren tapped the keys again and announced, "The Chicago cars are registered to a Mrs Doris Minsky, aged 73, a casino owner, and a Mr Paul Wilkinson aged 52."

Peter looked at the names on the screen.

"We need to see who drives the car registered at that casino!"

Lauren had that look of determination on her face. "On it!"

Jones ran the details of the victim and took the sheet of paper containing the results into Burke who was now seated in his office.

"The victim was a Johnny Carter, now living in New York but originally from Chicago. It would appear he has no record – of any description – and those that he does have are perfect, not even so much as a traffic violation!"

Burke nodded his understanding. "Too good to be true, eh?"

Jones agreed. "Probably some big wheel in the Chicago underworld, hence the manner of his demise."

At that point, Lauren entered waving another sheet of paper.

"I rang the casino and a very helpful member of staff told me that the casino's owner, a Mr Lorenzo Curtis, has taken the car to – wait for it – attend a relative's wedding in New York."

Burke banged the table slightly. "Bingo! Get all the info you can on our mysterious Mr Curtis as soon as you can." Burke wasn't sure where this would lead, but he had a gut instinct he was on the right track.

Both Agents started to search for all the information they could. Jones contacted the Chicago office and after a while he put the phone down and raced in to see Burke. Lauren was already there sharing her Intel.

"What have you got, Jones?" Peter asked as he rushed in.

"Apparently the name Curtis is a cover for the Casino owner. His real name is…"

"Lombardo!" Lauren cut in.

Jones was annoyed that his thunder had been taken, but Cruz was unconcerned and continued, as he sulked.

"This guy has a rap sheet as long as route 66! He is involved with prostitution, racketeering, extortion, gambling, and most probably numerous murders as yet unconnected to him. He likes to hang out at the Blue Note Club whilst here in New York, since he has a financial stake in the place. Hey, that's where Neal went last night, wasn't it?" Cruz added helpfully.

Peter pondered this small detail.

"Yes, so he says. Did either of you check out his story?" He asked matter of factly.

The two Agents looked at one another but neither spoke.

"I see." Peter looked at them as if they were rookies. "We now take a suspect's word as gospel, eh?"

Cruz felt sheepish. "Well since it was Neal, I - I mean we, thought…"

Peter threw his hands in the air. "That's precisely the reason you should have checked – because it's Neal! He may have just stood outside the place for all we know. Since when do you believe anything that man tells you?"

Jones too felt he'd let Peter down. "We're sorry, Peter, it won't happen again. I'll go straight away."

Peter stopped him; he was developing a plan. "Leave it, I'll go. There's a few things I need to do, but firstly I need to get Hughes to agree to something!"

Peter strode quickly over to his boss's office and rapped loudly on the door before entering straight away.

"Come..." Hughes began, but upon seeing Peter standing there commented dryly, "I see you already have! What can I do for you, Peter?"

From Peter's office, Jones and Cruz could see Burke talking to Hughes. Knowing both men well, the two Agents were able to work out more or less, what was being said due to the gestures and body language.

"Looks like Hughes isn't playing ball!" Jones said, as they watched him shake his head and turn away in a dismissive fashion.

"Wait! Burke is using his persuasive voice!" Cruz pointed out. "I think Hughes is weakening."

"Yep," Jones continued, "You're right. Hughes is listening and putting up very little resistance."

Lauren watched for a while and then said, "Burke is going in for the kill, wait for it…"

As if on cue, Burke left Hughes's office and came over to Jones and Lauren.

"Everything alright, boss?" Cruz asked innocently.

"All's good. I need you to get onto Judge Samuels and arrange bail for Caffrey as soon as possible. It's all been rubber stamped by Hughes."

Lauren nodded and left to attend to it. Peter spoke to Jones as he was leaving.

"Jones, I need you to try and find out anything you can about Lombardo's stay here in New York. I'll see you both soon."

He then quickly left the office and headed out to verify Neal's story before paying him a visit. Due to his past experiences, Peter was beginning to get the niggling feeling that somehow, Neal was involved. The 'Peter Burke School of Statistics' could prove that whenever something illegal or suspicious happened and Caffrey was around, he was usually in the thick of it.


	16. Chapter 16

Peter's mind was not entirely focussed on his driving and so he steered the Taurus through the crowded streets like a man possessed. He ignored the angry horns that blasted in his direction, his thoughts having been hijacked by concerns that the Chicago Mob where now entering the picture. The Saint Valentine's Day Massacre briefly entered his head and that prompted him to say to himself out loud, 'Get a grip, Peter!' as he realised his imagination was running wild. After a hair raising ride, he arrived at the Blue Note Club and after double parking out front, he flashed his badge to security on the door and went inside. The place was quite dark and empty, save for a few cleaners and bar staff milling about. Peter took a moment to look around and couldn't fathom out why Neal would come to a place like this voluntarily, but then again, he didn't like football or devilled ham, so that spoke volumes about the guy. He navigated towards the bar where a young red headed girl was cleaning some optics.

"Agent Burke, FBI. I wonder if I might ask you a couple of questions?"

The girl, whose name badge read 'Alice', stopped what she was doing and after checking his I.D replied, "FBI? Sure, Agent Burke, what is it you need?"

Peter removed a photo of Neal from his inside pocket and held it out for the girl to look at.

"I was wondering if you saw this man in the club a few nights ago. I realise it may have been busy and you may not remember…"

Peter had expected a long deliberation, but instead the girl grabbed the photo and said straight away, "Oh yes, I remember him! Came in about 11.00pm? Great looking guy, great suit!"

Lucy a colleague, having overheard Alice's animated comments, came over to see what was happening. She too looked at the photo and within a nano second gave the same reaction.

"That's that gorgeous guy from the other night! There's a few of us who would like to know his name! Do you know who he is?" The girl's eyes flashed cheekily.

Peter sighed; Unbelievable. Only Caffrey would stand out like that in a crowd. Jealous? Him? Never…

He took the photo back, much to the girls' chagrin, and put it away. "Thanks a lot, that's all I wanted to know."

"Yeah, he was with the owner, Mr Curtis," Lucy continued.

"Mr Curtis?" Burke latched onto the name like a limpet.

"Yeah. Mr Curtis has his own private seating, over there, see?" Alice pointed over to a raised area. "Well, your guy comes in and after a while I see that he has been taken into the private area and is sat with Mr Curtis."

"Go on." Peter prompted.

"Well that's it, really. They talk for a while then he gets up and leaves."

Peter digested the information and didn't know what to make of it, but he did know that Neal owed him one hell of an explanation.

"Thanks for your help." He acknowledged the girls with a smile and turned to leave.

"No problem!" Lucy answered and then after noticing her friend egging her on asked. "Before you go, do you know who he is? Do you think he'll come back?"

Peter shook his head.

"Sorry girls, I'd forget about him if I were you, he's back in prison."

The girls looked shocked and as he walked away, Peter couldn't help smirking because even though it was very childish, he had got one over on Neal.

Peter subsequently arrived at the prison and the first thing he did was check the visitor's log. He felt angry and sad to see that an Agent 'Curtis' and an Agent 'Wilkins' had visited Neal and he needed to know who they were and what it all meant.

As Neal entered the reception room, Peter was waiting and without preamble said. "Get changed, you're out on bail!"

Neal was both surprised and delighted.

"That's great, Peter! I can't thank you enough…"

Burke cut in.

"Don't thank me yet. You and I are going to have a little talk and by the end of it, I'll probably be bringing you straight back!"

Neal wasn't stupid enough to think he could have pulled the wool over Peter's eyes for long. He nodded and left with Bobby to change into some different clothes. Burke signed all the necessary paperwork and waited outside for Neal to emerge. He was fuming inside to think that Caffrey was caught up in something like this and hadn't told him.

The con man came out through the gate and started to say, "Peter…"

"Don't say a word, Neal!" Burke snapped back, holding up his hand. "Just get in the car and so help me, you are going to tell me what the hell is going on, or our deal is OFF!"

Neal could see how disappointed Peter was and so did as he was asked and got into the car without question. Burke drove off towards the city and after a short while pulled in at a truck stop. Turning off the engine, he turned to his wayward consultant.

"Start at the beginning!" Burke ordered.

Neal realised that fighting Peter was not the way forward; he really needed his help, so he appealed to his better nature.

"The problem here is that if I tell you, you might want to arrest me- again." He spoke earnestly but his cool blue eyes looked troubled.

Burke turned away slightly and thought for a while. He then sighed in his '_why do I always fall for Caffrey's charm?_' sort of way, before speaking in a gentler tone. He needed Neal to open up, which was not an easy objective.

"Look, Neal. I don't know what sort of trouble you're caught up in, but I remember once, you told me that out of all the people you'd ever known, I was the only person you trusted."

Neal's memory recalled the event. Yes he had said that, he was high on drugs at the time, but he had meant it.

Burke continued. "Well, now is the time to put that trust to the test. Trust me to do the right thing, let me help you, and in return you can help me and hopefully Dhumo too."

He could read the turmoil in Neal's eyes but he could also see that he was deserving of his trust.

"Alright. What do you want to know?" Neal said at last, knowing his hand was being forced.

"What do you know about a Lorenzo Lombardo?"

Ouch! Straight to the point; typical Peter, Neal mused.

Neal knew he had to be careful what he said because although he trusted Peter, the man still had FBI blood running through his veins. Peter would help him, but he couldn't, and wouldn't, bend the rules for him if he heard something too incriminating.

"I now know he's from Chicago and has connections to the Mafia." Neal said bluntly.

Peter knew that much himself so dropped the bombshell. "Then how did you come to be socialising with him at the Blue Note Club the other night?"

Neal tried to feign surprise, but judging by Peter's '_don't even think about it!_' expression, he carried on with the edited high lights, excluding any details that would definitely get him sent back to the slammer.

"When I was at the Blue Note Club, I got talking to this man who I later found out was Lombardo. We had a brief conversation about - things, and then I left." Peter had to try really hard to stop himself from interrupting.

Neal quickly carried on. "He must have discovered who I was and that I was in prison, because he came to see me; a captive audience in the true sense of the word. He told me who he was and that he could use me in his organisation. He was a bit vague on the details, but I understood enough to see that it would clash with my 'parole obligations' so I told him I wasn't interested. That apparently, was the wrong answer and he more or less told me in words of one syllable that I now work for him, unless I want my friends to be immortalised in stone…"

Peter looked dismayed. How could one man get into so much trouble?

"I see. Where does Dhumo fit into all this?"

"I am no good to Lombardo in prison. He must have asked around, because he knew the reason I was in prison was because Dhumo had planted the evidence in my apartment. He then picked him up and had a talk with him, to get him to confess. He felt strongly that his intervention would secure my release, so in his eyes I owe him a debt of gratitude. He will be in touch once I am out, so that our beautiful relationship can begin. As to Dhumo, I have no idea…"

Peter now understood and it wasn't good.

"Unbelievable! This could only happen to you!" He pointed out. "And you say Lombardo will find you upon your release?"

"He didn't say how, exactly, he just said he would be in touch, but he does own a stake in the Blue Note Club, so I guess I could take the initiative and go and find him there first."

"There's a good chance that is where he is keeping Dhumo." Burke said quietly, his mind beginning to work out the next move. "Providing he's still alive!" He added grimly.

Neal had already thought of that and knew that he had to try and help clear up this mess.

"What can I do to help?" He asked, needing Peter's trust back.

"**You** do nothing for now. **We** will go back to the office and try and sort out how to rescue Dhumo from one of Chicago's most notorious criminals. Should be a piece of cake!"

Burke then started the car and drove back in the direction of the office. As they neared June's place, Neal asked if he could be dropped off to change his clothes, and he would come along to the office straight after.

"I'm not leaving anything to chance on this one." Burke warned. "You go and get changed but be quick about it. I'll wait here; you don't have your anklet on, remember? I would hate you to be tempted to try something on your own! "

Neal looked down at his ankle as if he'd only just realised the fact. "Oh, yes, of course!" Peter looked at him with his 'you don't fool me for a minute!' expression as Neal got out of the car and entered June's house.

June was delighted to see him and hugged him so hard Neal thought she was going to suffocate him.

"Easy, June! I'm pleased to see you too!" He breathed in as she released her grip.

"Mozzie will be so pleased!" She carried on, smiling broadly. "It's such a shame Sam had to leave though; he was really concerned about you!"

Neal acknowledged this fact; June carried on fussing around him.

"Oh I am so glad you are free. I can't thank you enough for what you did for me…"

Neal smiled warmly.

"Thanks, June, for your help in all of this. I'm only out on bail though, and if I mess this up there's nothing Peter can do to keep me out."

June nodded with determination. "Then for all our sakes, let's hope you don't 'mess it up!'"

Neal went up to his room to get dressed. It had been tidied up since his arrest and he was pleased that Sam and the painting had gone. He had a quick shower, which felt so good and then chose some of his smartest clothes. He admired himself in the mirror.

"Mr Lombardo, you'll never know what hit you!" He said to his reflection, his confidence returning.

"Talking to your self is the first sign of madness!" A familiar voice said.

"Mozzie!" Neal spun round to see his friend standing in the doorway.

"June called me. I suppose you would have got around to it?" Mozzie said resignedly.

"Hey, Moz, of course I would have, but I only have a short time to get back to Peter…"

Mozzie put up his hand to silence Neal.

"It's okay! I'm just glad you're out!"

Neal looked serious.

Mozzie pressed. "You ARE out, aren't you?"

Neal turned his attention back to the mirror as he straightened his tie. "For now, but if we don't deal with Lombardo and find Dhumo, I'll be lucky to get out in ten."

Mozzie didn't like that.

"How do you mean, deal with Lombardo? Lombardo as in, 'the big scary gangster guy?' Lombardo as in, 'I use people as foundations guy?' the same Lombardo who…"

Neal had to interrupt before Mozzie self destructed. "I get the message, Moz, and yes, to all the comparisons you can come up with! I have to help Peter and the team get this guy. Lombardo visited me in prison and wants me to work for him and that's non negotiable. Peter needs my help to put him away and I need Peter's help to – put him away!" He then added "I had to tell him a few things, Moz…"

Mozzie looked thoughtful. "You told the suit and he's helping you? How much did you tell him, exactly? Did you mention the part about you breaking and entering, ransacking a safe and stealing a gun?"

Neal looked unperturbed. "Not specifically, that part must have slipped my mind…"

Mozzie gave Neal a hard stare. "You are treading on thin ice, my friend! Once he finds out you are in this up to your neck, he'll show his true FBI colours!"

Neal glanced at Mozzie over his shoulder. "Well let's just hope he doesn't find out, eh?"

Mozzie shook his head and turned away. "You play a dangerous game, Neal. Remember the Bonds…"

Neal accepted Mozzie's concern. "I'll be fine, Moz. Just let me handle Peter, OK?"

Mozzie nodded. "Well handle him with care, he's arrested you four times already, remember!"

Neal hated being reminded of the fact and gave Mozzie a look.

Mozzie then found himself saying, "So, what can I do?"

Neal had finished dressing and looked at his friend. "I think its best if you remain here and make sure June is safe. Once Lombardo knows I've double crossed him, who knows what he'll do…"  
Mozzie nodded. He tried to remain upbeat but was desperately worried for Neal. This was a very dangerous man they were dealing with.

"I'd better get going. We have the element of surprise at the moment, but it won't be long before Lombardo knows I'm out." Neal had slipped into his outward show of confidence, but Moz knew better.

"Before you go, Neal, there's something I'd like to give you."

Neal waited for Mozzie to retrieve the item out of a small box.

"Ex Russian military?" Neal smiled.

"You got it. Keep it with you, it will come in handy!"

Neal gratefully acknowledged Mozzie's help and picking up the object, put it in his trouser pocket.

"Take care, my friend." Mozzie said simply, as Neal left the apartment to join Peter.

Thanks again for feedback guys. Next chapter up soon…


	17. Chapter 17

Once he was back in the familiar surroundings of the office, Neal was pleasantly surprised to be welcomed by Jones and even Cruz, with a surprising amount of warmth. Peter gave Neal a few moments to settle down before calling time. Ever the professional, he was ready to outline the plan and so they all fell silent to listen.

Peter had put a picture of Lombardo on the board, which he indicated as he spoke.

"Listen up. This guy Lorenzo Lombardo is bad news; he has ties to the Chicago Mafia and killing is an occupational hazard. We have reason to believe he was responsible for the Carter Homicide and now he wants to bring Neal into his 'family'. Obviously, now that Neal is a law abiding citizen, he has declined the offer but Lombardo doesn't take 'no' for an answer. We need to take this man down and more importantly we need to find Agent Dhumo."

Cruz and Jones nodded their understanding. Neal, who had been standing quietly at the back, then spoke.

"By now, word will be on the street that I am out of jail and you can be sure that he will have heard. I need to be ready for him when he makes his move, so that I can infiltrate his organisation and find Dhumo."

Burke agreed. "You should wear a wire and also a tracking device so that we know where you are at all times. When you do get to see Lombardo, the main thing is to try and locate Dhumo ASAP, so that we can formulate the rescue plan. Also, you're the expert, try and get him to admit to Carter's killing on tape, he seems the type to brag!"

Neal nodded his agreement. "I'll play along with his idea that I now work for him and that should give me time to find Dhumo, and you enough time to get us both out."

Burke came over to him and handed him the tracker.

"This goes in your cuff!" He announced proudly as if it were some huge revelation.

Neal looked at the small, round object sitting in his palm and grimaced.

"In my cuff eh?" He then leaned in close to Peter and said quietly, "Don't you think it's a bit Starskey and Hutch?"

Cruz and Jones had overheard, but put on their best neutral expressions.

Burke didn't agree with the sentiments and told him so.

"It's state of the art and since you haven't got your anklet on, it will allow us to know where you are at all times. There are two of them so that they look like cufflinks, but this other one is a dummy."

Neal still wasn't as impressed as Peter.

"No expense spared, eh?" He quipped, but without argument he removed his Pineider cufflinks, and fastened the tracker into place.

"This is the wire, you know how that works." Jones said, as he helped him to fit it under his shirt.

Once everything was in place, Neal then replaced his jacket, sorted out his tie and looked confident and ready to go.

"Remember to keep up; I don't want to take all the glory!" Neal joked.

Burke smiled but answered seriously. "Don't worry. We'll be right behind you but don't try anything heroic!"

Neal was mindful of Peter's concern and nodding his understanding replied, "Don't worry, Hutch, I'll be careful!" before leaving the office.

If Cruz and Jones felt like laughing, one look at their boss's face convinced them otherwise.

Neal decided to walk back to June's first, just to see if they were already watching him. Although he walked with a relaxed gait, all his senses were on high alert. He was aware of the car long before he saw it and was not at all surprised when a large Cadillac pulled up along side him at the kerb and the window slid down.

The first thing Neal noticed was the barrel of a gun; he then he followed the arm it was attached to and saw it belonged to Joe, seated at the wheel.

"Get in. Mr Lombardo wants to see you!" He ordered.

The rear door swung open, so Neal casually removed his sunglasses and slid into the back seat, where another of Lombardo's 'employees' sat with a gun trained on him.

"Nice of him to send his private car…" Neal quipped, but the man in the back said forcibly, "Shut your mouth!" So Neal did as he was asked and Joe drove the car away at speed.

Back in the surveillance van, Burke had heard enough and Jones shifted it into gear and followed the cufflink's signal.

The car journey for Neal was awkward, since Joe and Mr Anonymous were not the talkative types.

"Nice day for a drive!" Neal said pleasantly. "I always think New York is underrated when it comes to scenery…"

"You talk too much!" Mr Anonymous growled, indicating with his gun that it would be in Neal's interests to keep quiet.

Neal accepted the advice and for the remainder of the journey, kept his mouth shut and his eye on the muzzle of the gun. He was actually relieved when he saw the Blue Note Club looming in the distance. The limousine pulled in around the back and Joe got out and opened Neal's door. Mr Anonymous signalled to Neal with the gun. "Move it!" He ordered and Neal, not wishing to end up dead, obliged. Joe led the way to the rear of the club and then through a warren of back rooms. Neal followed, urged on by Mr Anonymous and his ever present gun. As Neal entered one of the larger rooms, he saw Lombardo seated behind a desk looking anything but pleased.

Joe brought over a chair and roughly pushed Neal into it.

"Thank you!" Neal said sarcastically, but it was lost on Joe.

Lombardo put down his cigar and after a short silence, addressed Neal.

"Mr Caffrey, you disappoint me!" He said with mock pleasantry.

"And why is that, Mr Lombardo?" Neal replied, already knowing the answer.

"You were released from prison earlier today and what do you do? You go straight to your FBI friend like I specifically advised you not to!"

Joe came up behind Neal's chair and said, "You have been very disloyal to Mr Lombardo and he doesn't like that!"

Neal had always been a natural actor and now he dredged up all his skills to remain calm and confident so that he could give Burke time to trace him.

"I'm sorry you see it that way. It's true I went to see my FBI contact, but only because I am on parole and need to check in with them."

Lombardo nodded and then whispered something to Joe, who disappeared through a door at the back. Neal used the opportunity to surreptitiously look around the room, making mental notes of any possible escape routes through the windows and doors. Joe soon reappeared and he had Dhumo with him. Neal was relieved at first to see the big Agent, but that only lasted a few seconds as Lombardo addressed Dhumo like an old friend.

"Mr Caffrey, here, says he needed to report to his FBI minder. What do you think, Mr Dhumo, is he telling the truth?"

Neal watched with a growing feeling of trepidation as the Agent walked over and stood in front of him. It was obvious to Neal that Dhumo wasn't acting like a man in distress; in fact he was behaving like a man in charge.

Dhumo cast a professional eye over Neal before coming closer and slightly raising the con man's left trouser leg.

"He's lying. He usually wears a tracking anklet so he can be tracked remotely. That means he doesn't need to check in with anyone. The only reason he would report to Burke, would be to have the anklet put back on, but as you can see, it's missing, so what conclusions can we draw from that?"

Neal tensed all over. He was really beginning to hate this guy…

"Take my word for it, he's working with the FBI and if I know Peter Burke, and I think I do, then he's been wired and probably has a tracker too!"

Listening to all of this back in the van, Peter looked insulted and concerned in equal measures. What was Dhumo playing at? If they discovered the equipment on Neal, it could get very messy indeed.

"Come on, Jones! Get us to his position now!" He ordered. Jones didn't need telling twice he was already on it, but the traffic had built up and progress was slow.

Back at the Blue Note Club, Dhumo stepped forward and pulled Neal up out of the chair. He then proceeded to pull off his expensive jacket and started to professionally frisk him. It didn't take him long to find the wire and he pulled it viciously off Neal's skin, cutting the connection. He held it up like a trophy to show Lombardo.

"Peter Burke, FBI Agent of the year!" He mocked. "How predictable!"

Lombardo's face grew dark. "Did you say something about a tracker, too?"

Dhumo spoke conversationally as he continued to frisk Neal, who remained remarkably calm for someone whose plan was falling into little pieces.

"The standard issue is either in the heel of a shoe or in a watch. Take your shoes off, Caffrey!" He ordered, and helped along by Joe's gun, Neal removed his shoes and watched whilst Dhumo examined them thoroughly. Upon finding nothing, he threw them across the room and Neal began to feel seriously pissed off as he watched his expensive leather shoes clatter against the wall. Dhumo then ripped Neal's watch off his wrist. He expertly checked it for bugs and then finding none, smashed it on the floor.

"Hey! That's an Omega!" That was the final straw and Neal just couldn't help himself, despite the seriousness of the situation.

Dhumo laughed, but had one more idea of where to look.

"Oh Agent Burke! " He announced sarcastically. "Surely you didn't use the cufflink tracker…" He grabbed Neal's wrist and soon found what he was looking for. He held it up for Lombardo to see.

"I told him it was too 70's cop…" Neal muttered under his breath.

Dhumo went to smash it, but Lombardo stopped him.

"Wait! Give it to Robert, here. He can drive around and put the FBI off the scent"

Mr Anonymous, AKA Robert, took the little button and went out to lead Peter on a wild goose chase.

Neal knew he had to stall but he also wanted answers so spoke up.

"What are you doing, Dhumo? You're supposed to be one of the good guys! I came here to get you out!"

By way of reply, Dhumo pushed Neal to the floor. Neal rolled athletically onto his knees but Joe grabbed him by his collar and dragged him up, before pushing him into Dhumo who then unceremoniously shoved him back into the chair. Neal, refusing to be intimidated, smoothed his hair back into place and straightened his tie.

Lombardo chuckled at Neal's resilience and answered the question on Dhumo's behalf.

"It would appear that Mr Dhumo has no love for you, Mr Caffrey. My plans have now changed. Once you got released early and involved the FBI, we had an interesting discussion. He more or less convinced me that although you are highly talented…" Neal acknowledged the compliment with a slight nod of his head, "You wouldn't be a reliable employee. I wanted an inside man in the FBI and now I have Agent Dhumo. He has offered to work for me and I have to thank him for making me aware just how much a threat you are to me!"

Neal moved forward to speak, but Joe pushed him back down into the chair. Neal wasn't easily silenced, he knew he had to keep talking and waste time.

"What is he offering you that's worth throwing away your career for? He asked Dhumo.

Dhumo smirked in that irritating way he had.

"Career? Hah! All my life I've tried to play by the rules, but all too often the criminals walk free. All I have to look forward to is a golden handshake and my meagre pension! Well, this way I can help Mr Lombardo with information and in return I get what I want, help from him in removing criminals who don't get their just deserts from the justice system and a good pay off too."

Neal put two and two together.

"So what your saying is, any person who in your opinion walks free undeserved, will find one of Lombardo's heavies waiting for them down a dark alley one night?"

"Bravo, Mr Caffrey!" Lombardo applauded sarcastically. "You really are very clever! I warned you about being too clever. This way Dhumo gets his wish and I will get to know who has double crossed me or grassed to the law and I can deal with them, using my methods!"

"Like you dealt with Johnny Carter?" Neal said unfazed.

"Yes, poor Johnny. He was a dear friend who shouldn't have lied…"

Neal didn't like where this was going... "Well if that's what you do to your friends…"

Lombardo gave him the slimmest of smiles.

"You will soon find out how I deal with my enemies, Mr Caffrey!"

He then turned to Joe.

"Secure him, Joe, and put him in the car. We'll go for a ride down to the docks where you, Agent Dhumo, can have the pleasure of killing him."

Neal was dismayed to see that Dhumo actually smiled at the prospect.

Lombardo continued.

"You see, Mr Caffrey, once you are out of the way, Agent Dhumo won't need to confess to anything and so he can return unhindered to his job. You, on the other hand, will be remembered as a nasty little thief who met a violent end."

"I get it, one of my shady deals gone bad?" Neal added grimly.

"Something like that. With your track record, it won't be questioned and besides, we will leave some 'evidence' to substantiate it."

Before Neal could shoot back the caustic reply forming on his lips, Joe pulled him viciously up and secured his hands behind his back with a set of cuffs. He then shoved him towards the door. Neal pointed out the fact that he didn't have any shoes on or a jacket, but Dhumo just laughed and said he wouldn't be needing those where he was going. Neal's head was buzzing but he had still had the presence of mind to start working on the cuffs…

Peter meanwhile was trying hard to fathom out where the tracker was leading them. He knew the wire had been found, but hopefully they could still keep track of Neal through the cuff, whose signal was still broadcasting loud and clear.

"Where the hell are they taking him?" Jones asked in confusion. "I thought they were at the Blue Note Club!"

Peter scowled. "They were, but I have no idea where they're taking him now, but we must keep track; its Neal's only hope."

Unbeknown to Peter, Neal was still at the Blue Note Club, seated in the back of Lombardo's car. Dhumo was in the back with him and Joe and Lombardo sat up front.

The car pulled away and Neal tried to engage the big Agent in conversation.

"You don't need to do this! Help me escape and I won't say a word to the FBI about your little deal. I can have a word with Peter and get this straightened out!"

Dhumo turned to look at him, but his eyes were blank.

"Shut up, Caffrey. You of all people should realise that I can't get what I want lawfully. Since you're the only one who knows about my plans, with you out of the way I can return to the FBI and live my life MY way from now on!"

"You think killing me will stop Peter from finding out about you?" Neal asked, still working on the cuffs behind his back.

Dhumo then said in a voice of hard steel. "I know it will, and just so you're clear, I am killing you, because I want to."

That left Neal at a loss for words. Although the sunset was pretty, the docks could be seen in the distance and he couldn't help thinking it was a very lonely place to die.

Thanks for input once again. Always appreciated because a lot of you guys out there know your stuff!


	18. Chapter 18

Whilst Neal's future was looking decidedly bleak, the rest of the team were being led on a random chase all over lower Manhattan. There was something nagging at Burke's brain and he finally voiced his concerns.

"Something here is definitely wrong; they must have found the tracker because this pattern of driving is too haphazard." He announced in exasperated tones to the other two Agents.

Cruz nodded in agreement.

"That's what I was thinking. If Dhumo knew about the wire, he sure as hell would know about the tracker. It's probably on a tour bus of the city for all we know! What do you suggest we do, boss?"

Burke could tell from her eyes that Cruz was actually worried about Neal. That was a first.

"What we do now is turn back and head to the Club. That is the last reliable fix we had for Caffrey. We'll check it out and see where it takes us! I'll pass the tracker over to traffic and see what they can turn up." Peter's anger at being tricked by Lombardo, far outweighed any fear he had of the man and he was now more determined than ever to find Neal.

Jones turned the van around with a steely determination; Caffrey was part of their team and you didn't leave a team member behind. He headed back to the Blue Note Club, beginning to feel the same stirrings of anger as his boss.

As darkness was falling, the Cadillac approached the docks and it was obvious to Neal, (for reason's he didn't much care to hear about), that Joe had been here before. He pulled off onto a remote area that looked like the Titanic had been the last vessel to dock there, and pulled the car to a stop near some abandoned warehouses.

Dhumo climbed out of the car and walked around to the other side to open Neal's door. He indicated with the barrel of his gun that Neal should get out and took pleasure in watching his prisoner struggle, before getting impatient and pulling him onto the dock area by his collar. Neal nearly fell as he was pulled off balance, but said nothing; if looks could kill…

Dhumo motioned for Neal to walk a few paces away from the car and he followed a short distance behind. The Agent watched Neal walk awkwardly over the rough, debris strewn dock side in his stocking feet, and then ordered him to wait up whilst Lombardo emerged from the car and walked over.

The crime boss took another long puff of his cigar and looking at Neal like he'd just crawled out from underneath a rock, said in his grating voice.

"I fear it is time for us to say good bye, Mr Caffrey. I'm sorry you've chosen this path, I'm sure you would have benefitted from my organisation, but there is no accounting for the stupidity of youth."

Neal shook his head to remove the lock of hair that had fallen across his eyes. _Play for time!_ His inner voice was screaming, so he started talking to stall.

"Take your own advice and beware the stupidity of age; it lulls you into a false sense of security. You believe you are untouchable and that is a mistake!"

The mobster finished his cigar and symbolically dropped it to the ground where he crushed it underfoot.

"Prophetic words, Mr Caffrey, but who is going to stop me? Certainly not you!"

He smiled in that supremely smug manner that comes with the acquisition of great power. He turned to Dhumo.

"He's all yours, Agent Dhumo, and if I were you, I wouldn't make it quick!"

Dhumo nodded and gratefully took Neal roughly by the arm and steered him towards an old container; he had waited four years for this moment.

Once he was happy with the location, he pointed the gun at Neal and said, "On your knees!"

Neal locked eyes with him and hesitated, but Dhumo dramatically cocked the trigger, so very reluctantly he did as he was asked and lowered himself to the floor.

"Think about this! It's not too late!" He tried one more time to get through to this man, but in vain.

Dhumo had that vacant look in his eyes again. "It is for you! The first bullet won't kill you, or the second, not even the third, but by then you'll be begging me to finish you!"

"You always were a sadistic thug, Dhumo!" Neal still had his pride and wouldn't beg this man for anything, not even his life.

"Flattery will get you everywhere!" Dhumo chuckled, savouring the moment. Then the shots rang out.

Neal was surprised there was no pain, and then he realised that it wasn't Dhumo who had fired. Instead the Agent was looking around him, desperately trying to see where the shots were coming from. Joe had pushed Lombardo to the ground out of harms way, and he too was searching the surrounding area for the shooter.

A very cultured voice cut dramatically through the approaching darkness, reverberating around the deserted dock.

"Nobody move, unless you want to be used for target practice!"

Lombardo struggled awkwardly to his feet, incandescent with rage. "You're dead meat, my friend! Who the hell are you, show yourself!" he demanded.

The strong voice replied out of the ether, "The name's Bond, James Bond!" Then it added with less conviction, "Don't just stand there, Neal, run like hell!"

Neal didn't need telling twice. He had managed to undo the cuffs, and launching himself upwards, hit Dhumo in the stomach. The man, taken completely by surprise, fell backwards to the floor and his gun jolted out of his hand. Neal pounced on the weapon as the shots rang out again, forcing Joe and Lombardo to remain where they were. Neal ran with all his stamina towards the shadows, ignoring the pain as his feet were cut on the rough surface. He had no idea if, or how, he would actually get out of this alive, but for now he was free and more importantly, he had a gun. He peered out from behind a container and could see the three men still pinned down and it was then he heard the sound of a van approaching. As the final shots rang out, he looked towards the entrance to the dock and saw the surveillance van speeding in. He had to admit, it was the first time in his life that he'd actually been glad to see the FBI. Following close behind were two patrol cars, and as the vehicles stopped, the officers spilled out like an oil slick.

Joe and Lombardo were restrained immediately and Cruz and Jones dealt with Dhumo, dragging the big man to his feet and securing his wrists behind his back. Peter meanwhile, looked anxiously around and called out Neal's name. He was relieved as hell to see Neal emerge from the darkness.

"Are you okay?" He asked, noting how Neal was bruised, dishevelled and shaking slightly.

Neal, realising he was holding a gun, dropped it to the floor.

"Yeah, I'm alright, but you cut that a bit fine! I just need my jacket; its cold don't you think?"

Peter was so relieved he couldn't speak, so he just nodded. It was actually a warm evening, but he knew Neal must be suffering from shock, so he didn't comment.

Knowing that for now Neal was safe, Peter turned his attention to the job in hand and walked over to Lombardo whose expression was pure hatred.

"You're under arrest." Burke announced with relish. "And by the way, we happen to have apprehended another friend of yours, on a driving charge!"  
The gangster almost laughed.

"You'll regret this, Agent Burke! You have nothing on me or my men and once my lawyers' get on the case you'll wish you'd never been born!"

Peter was all too aware of this because Neal's wire had been removed and so a lot of good evidence had been lost.

Neal appeared out of the shadows and walked gingerly across the rough ground towards Dhumo; he stopped to speak to him.

"Earlier this evening you said Agent Burke was predictable." He began. "Well the thing is - I'm not!" And reaching forward, he removed a small object from Dhumo's pocket.

"It's another bugging device; I slipped it in when you and Joe used me as a football. You didn't expect me to be carrying two bugs, did you?

Dhumo's expression rivalled Lombardo's and Peter was mystified, but he let Neal continue.

"Peter had a feeling the other one might easily be found, since it was so cheesy…"

Peter grimaced at Neal's sarcasm.

"…And knowing you would stop searching once you found a device, we planted two."

Peter tried to look as if he knew what the hell Neal was talking about.

"I have all the conversation recorded on this, including your admission, Mr Lombardo, that you killed Carter and also how you and Dhumo intended to kill me. I don't think your lawyers will be able to refute that."

Lombardo was seething. "You are a dead man, Caffrey. I never forget…"

Neal, on the surface, had regained his composure after his brush with death.

"Perhaps not, but the world will be able to forget about you for a long time!"

The three men were then led away.

"I hope you like ABBA…" Neal called out to them before turning to face Peter.

The FBI Agent still had a look of relief written across his face.

"That was a close call!" He announced; his concern obvious.

Neal had to agree.

"How did you find me? I thought you'd be following that tracker for hours!"  
Peter shook his head.

"Contrary to popular belief, the FBI are not all idiots. We cottoned on to the fact it wasn't your signal quite early on and then headed back to the Club. We found your jacket, shoes and broken watch and then, surprisingly, I received an anonymous tip that something was going on down here and we should get here fast! And you know the rest."

Neal nodded. "All too well!"

"There is one thing that puzzles me though." Peter added.

'_Only one?'_ Neal thought to himself, as he turned and looked innocently at Burke.

"When we arrived, there was someone up there shooting." He indicated a dock crane. "It would appear that whoever it was, they were on your side. Any ideas who it could have been?"

Neal's eyes grew large as he shrugged.

"I have no idea." and much to his surprise, Peter let it drop.

"Okay, let's get back and debrief." He announced and as they walked back to the van, Neal asked. "Did you bring my jacket and shoes with you?"

Peter stopped and just looked at him. "Unbelievable! We save your life and all you can think about is your jacket!"

Neal explained "It's just that it's my favourite jacket and those shoes cost…"

"Get in the van, Starskey!" Peter ordered, but with a smile in his voice.

Back at the office Peter was surprised to have a small package waiting for him.

"Who delivered this at this hour?" He wanted to know.

One of the night shift had the answer. "It was some small guy with a bad toupee. Said it would be to your advantage."

Peter sighed. Mozzie.

"He's going to have to get better with his disguises!" He remarked to Neal, who was seated at a desk cradling a large mug of hot coffee and nodding in agreement.

When Peter opened the package, it was an audio disc and he knew that these were the recordings from the bug that Neal had planted.

"You realise I can't use this, don't you?" He told Neal, holding up the silver disc. "I can't convince the powers that be that the FBI and the KGB worked together on this one!"

Neal had already thought about that. "But Lombardo doesn't know where the bug came from. All he knows is that the recording exists and he believes that you sanctioned it. Let's just see what plea bargain he comes up with." And he smiled with a devious grin.

Peter switched on the machine and together they listened to the events as they unfolded. Neal sat in silence, his jaw tense and body taught. Peter listened enthralled. It was great evidence and although it hadn't been recorded on official FBI equipment, Peter was starting to think he could possibly get around it, if it became necessary. Caffrey was definitely becoming a bad influence!

The audio came to the point were the Good Samaritan announced his presence and upon hearing the voice, Peter looked thoughtful. Neal on the other hand looked uncomfortable.

Peter rewound the passage a couple of times.

"James Bond? That voice sounds English!" Peter said at last and turned to Neal. "Does it sound English to you?"

Neal looked unsure. "Do you think? I would say more Canadian…"

Unfortunately for Neal, the cogs were already turning in Peter's brain.

"No, no it is definitely English. How many Englishmen do we know in New York, Neal?"

Neal sidestepped. "Well, if you count Sting…"

Peter wanted to get Mallory, but at the same time the man had done nothing recently to break the law in New York and it would appear that he had saved Neal's life. Peter wouldn't have got there in time if Mallory hadn't opened fire. Not for the first time since meeting Neal, Peter Burke, FBI Agent of the White Collar Unit, made a decision of the heart.

"I think you should go home and get some rest, Neal."

Neal was surprised to say the least.

"Thanks, Peter, I am done in."

"I'll get Jones to drive you home, but before you go, you'd better put this on, I don't want any more paperwork!"

He held up the anklet. Neal took it and attached it to his ankle without fuss. Before he left, Peter had one more thing to say.

"We need to discuss in more detail what's happened over the last few days. I think I can come up with a case that proves to Hughes that you were a victim in all of this, but if you ever keep something like this from me again…"

Neal nodded. Poor Peter. If only he knew the half of it. Hopefully Lombardo would have too much on his plate to mention Neal's part in the theft of the gun and Neal would deny it anyway. Who would believe a Chicago mobster after all? How ironic…

"I'll see you tomorrow and thanks for all you've done." Neal's face showed Peter had more than repaid his trust.

"Any time!" Peter replied with sincerity.

Peter watched Neal walk out through the office. Jacketless, dishevelled and with crime scene shoe covers on his stocking feet, but even dressed like that, he would still have been able to talk his way into an audience with the President. He'd had a lucky escape tonight. Peter would hold off the search for Mallory for a few hours, he owed the big Englishman that.

Jones dropped him back and Neal entered the familiar hall. It was dark and quiet, just like it had been when Lombardo first came to see June, and Neal stood there for a while breathing it in. His feet hurt but he climbed the stairs quickly and entered his room.

The lights were on and he was delighted to see June, Mozzie and yes, Sam Mallory. Few words were spoken, and he accepted willingly a huge hug from June followed by a quick man hug from Moz and finally a great big bear hug from Mallory.

"Thanks Sam!" He said earnestly as they separated. "I owe you a thousand miniatures!"

Sam inclined his head to Moz.

"I know you wanted me to go, Neal, but I couldn't just leave you to an animal like Lombardo. It was thanks to Mozzie I knew where you were. He agreed I should hang around, unbeknown to you. He listened to the audio and told me they were taking you to the docks, so I got there before you and waited. Just for good measure he tipped off your FBI friend."

Neal looked over at Mozzie and nodded his thanks. Nothing needed to be said, they were a team.

Mallory shook Neal's hand and announced loudly, "Well, Neal, it's been – fun, but I have to get back to dear old Blighty before Uncle Sam invites me to stay for a few years! I hope you can come over sometime, you'd enjoy 'viewing' the amazing art and treasures we have hidden all over my little country!"

Neal liked the idea. "I will Sam, but not for the next four years I'm afraid! In the meantime keep in touch."

Sam promised that he would and giving June one more hug, exited as he usually did, across the patio and down the wall.

June looked at Neal, relief written all over her face.

"The next time you don't listen to me, I'll box your ears!"

Neal looked suitably chastened.

"Don't worry, June. I'll take your advice in future!"

She gave him one last hug and said, "I'm so glad you are back safely where you belong!"

She kissed his forehead and left Neal and Mozzie alone.

Mozzie had poured Neal a drink, which he accepted willingly.

"Do you think the suit will find out about you stealing the gun?" Mozzie asked directly.

Neal looked out at the New York skyline and had another sip of his wine. A few moments passed before he spoke.

"Leave that for another day, Moz. At the moment Peter has more than enough to keep him occupied and I have a feeling the gun will be forgotten about once this case gets going. Lombardo would have to admit to owning it and then hand it over to the FBI. I don't think that will happen, do you?"

Mozzie agreed.

"This was a close call, Neal. If you ever suggest anything like this again, I am out of here!"

Neal smiled at his long time partner and friend and said with all sincerity.

"Don't worry, Moz, I will be more prepared next time."

Mozzie nearly choked on his wine. "Next time?"

The grin that spread across Neal's face convinced Moz that he still could be taken in by this man even after all the years he'd known him. He took that as his cue to leave.

"I'm going now, so you can get some rest, but I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Sure, Moz, and thanks again."

Mozzie nodded and leaving his empty glass on the table, walked out the door and gently closed it behind him.

Neal walked painfully out onto the patio, as his cut feet began to complain. He sat on a chair and looked once more at the beautiful city skyline. He raised his glass in silent tribute to Peter, Mozzie and a big Englishman named Mallory. Without them, he would be floating face down in a dock by now, just another New York homicide statistic. He had to admit that he'd been complacent in underestimating Dhumo and he would **never** allow that to happen again. He then felt his wrist and the absence of his watch and decided that tomorrow he would treat himself to a new one; He still had a few favours he could call in and Peter would never find out. That was the only trouble with working with the FBI he thought wryly, you always had to play by the rules!

That's it, finished! Thanks for feedback on my first submission, let me know what you thought! I have enjoyed sharing it with you. I would particularly like to thank govgal and costley51 for their support from the beginning and I hope I haven't made any blinding errors about New York or the American Justice System, if I have, sorry guys! If anyone is interested, I have another story in progress which I will post when I have a few more chapters under my belt. It's been fun.

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